


Out of Eden

by brooklynisosm



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Angst, Atheist Dean, Castiel Has a Sexuality Crisis, Castiel's Family, Cuddling & Snuggling, Dean Winchester Realizes His Feelings For Castiel, Family Drama, Fluff, Forbidden Love, Friends to Lovers, Heartbreak, Internalized Homophobia, John Winchester's A+ Parenting, M/M, Preacher's Kid Castiel, Protective Siblings, Religious Castiel, Sam Ships It, Secret Crush, i'll add more tags as the story progresses because honestly I'm not sure where this is going, lucifer ruined everything, mature for language
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-04
Updated: 2016-10-10
Packaged: 2018-07-29 09:21:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 19,790
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7678930
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brooklynisosm/pseuds/brooklynisosm
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It isn't love. Castiel most definitely is not in love with Dean Winchester. He just likes helping people. As long as 'people' means beautiful boys with green eyes and freckles and the best laugh he's ever heard. As long as 'people' means a person he can talk to without feeling weird or unwanted, a person who's helped him see so much more than the little world he's been raised in. As long as 'people' means Dean. </p><p>It isn't love. Dean isn't in love with Castiel Milton. He just enjoys spending time with his friend. A friend with eyes the color of a butterfly and a habit of looking confused, rumpled, and extraordinarily adorable. A friend who makes him feel better in the darkest times, who always seems to know exactly what he needs, who's smart and thoughtful and kind. A friend named Cas.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> To anyone who's reading my fic 'Too Bad to Die'- I haven't forgotten it, I promise. I was just struck with inspiration. 
> 
> Destiel has recently taken over my life and I wanted to write about it.  
> This is a very cliche High School AU. In this AU, John is still a hunter. It's 2010, and Sam and Dean met Cas in 2009, but Dean is 17, Cas is 16, and Sam is 13.  
> I'm not sure exactly where this story is going to take me, but we'll see.

Dean’s never been through a heartbreak before, so he isn’t quite sure what it feels like, but he’s pretty sure it’s something like this. This horrible sensation where, no matter how angry he tries to be, all he can muster is sadness. Sadness that it didn’t work out. Sadness that she doesn’t want him anymore. 

He, Dean Winchester, not wanted! 

What a thought!

He remembers it. Damn Cassie Robinson, so beautiful as always, taking his hand and saying, “I think we should break up.” 

He’s dated other girls before, of course, but Cassie’s different. She’s smart, and brave, and willing to have arguments with Dean just for the sake of arguing. She’s temperamental but he liked that about her. And she always speaks her mind, even if it might make her seem rude or inconsiderate. 

Dean fell in love with her. He fell in love for the first time and it had been with a girl who had looked him in the eye and told him that they should break up. He’d been attracted to how similar they were, but in the end that similarity had been the thing to split them. 

And now he’s sitting behind the school with the back of his head pressed against the bricks, two empty beer bottles beside him, and tears running down his face. He’s trying so hard to be angry, and all it does is make him more miserable. The amount of his dad’s liquor that he’s ingested hasn’t helped. 

“Hello, Dean.” 

The voice comes from his right. He nearly jumps out of his skin. “Jesus fucking Christ!” He yells, scrambling to find the source of the words. 

It’s Castiel Milton. 

When they’d first moved to Pontiac, Sam had been behind in History because the Texas school system was slower than the Illinois one. Castiel had agreed to be Sam’s History tutor, and now comes over to their small apartment every Thursday afternoon. Sam has long since caught up with History, but he’s struck up a strange friendship with the even stranger sophomore. They’re both fucking nerds, but at least that means they let Dean watch Star Wars all the time. 

Castiel is weird. He’s skinny and long-limbed, a few inches shorter than Dean, and a year younger, with perpetually rumpled black hair and lips in need of chapstick. He always wears an oversized trench coat, and has a (fucking creepy) habit of appearing with no warning. One moment he’s there, the next he isn’t. The strangest, and most captivating thing about him, though, are his eyes. They’re the color of a blue morpho butterfly, deep and intense, as if he can see all the way into Dean’s soul. It’s a little disturbing, honestly. He’s staring at Dean now. 

“Dammit, Cas!” Dean says. 

“I apologize, Dean. Am I interrupting something?” His eyes flick to the beer bottles, one of which has fallen to its side and is rolling back and forth on the asphalt. 

“No, man. Just- don’t  _ do _ that, okay!” 

Cas squints and tilts his head with a puzzled expression. “Dean, are you crying?” 

Dean wipes his face with his sleeve. “No.” He says, trying to be dignified. 

Cas takes a few steps, until he’s standing right in front of Dean. He reaches out, and wipes a tear away with his thumb. 

“Are you alright?” He asks, with a cloudy, concerned look on his face. 

“Cas, dude, we talked about this.” Dean says. “Personal space.” 

“I apologize.” Cas takes a step back. “I was just concerned for your well-being. What has caused you to weep, Dean?” 

“I cut some onions.” Dean searches for a way out. 

“Was that a reference of some kind?” Cas says. “I do not see any onions near our high school. I suspect that is not the cause of your tears.” 

Cas seems to be taking this pretty seriously. “Dude, why are you so interested?” Dean says. 

“I have never seen you cry before, Dean.” Cas says. “Not even at the sad parts in your favorite movies. I have observed that you choose to project a particularly masculine facade. I doubt you would break that in public unless you had a good, well, in this case, bad, reason.” 

“It was nothing.” Dean says. Maybe if he tells Cas, Cas will go away. “My girlfriend broke up with me, is all.” 

“Oh. Cassie Robinson.” Cas looks thoughtful. “She is very beautiful.” 

“Yeah.” Dean says. 

“And intelligent, as well.” 

“Look, if you’re trying to make me feel better, then you’re failing. Cause you’re kinda doin’ the opposite.”

“I am sorry, Dean.” Cas says. “From what I understand, heartbreak is very difficult.” 

“Got any miracle cure like you had for Sam’s pneumonia?” Dean says sarcastically. Cas actually did have some miracle cure for Sam’s pneumonia. It’d been the thing that had made Dean trust Cas in the first place. 

Cas cocks his head again and frowns, in deep thought. “My sister Anna seems to find listening to sad music and consuming copious amounts of ice cream effective.” 

“Thanks.” Dean says, rolling his eyes. “That’s real helpful.” 

“If that does not work, you could watch Star Wars again. I know how much you enjoy those films.” Cas says. Dean realizes that a small smile plays on his lips. Unconsciously, Dean smiles too. 

He doesn’t realize until he’s almost home how much better his conversation with Cas made him feel. 

* * *

Sam’s on Wikipedia, going from page to page by clicking on things that look interesting, when he hears a knock at the door. Three knocks, actually, short, precise, and polite, all in a row.

He makes his way through the Winchesters’ small apartment. It isn’t much distance from their kitchen table to the door. 

He looks through the peephole, then opens the door to find Cas there. 

“Hey, Cas.” Sam says. “Is it Thursday already?” 

“No.” Cas says. “It is Tuesday.” 

He’s holding a container of Ben and Jerry’s. American Apple Pie. It’s a limited flavor- and Dean’s favorite- and it stopped being available over a year ago. 

“O-kay.” Sam says. “Not that I don’t like seeing you, but why’re you here?” 

“I am here to see Dean.” Cas said. 

“Dean’s in the bedroom.” Sam gestured with his shoulder. “Why?”

“From what I understand, Dean’s latest romantic relationship has failed and I have heard that ice cream helps ease emotional pain.” 

So that was why Dean had been in such an awful mood. It’s his night to cook but it ended up being Sam making Mac and Cheese from the box. Dean hasn’t even opened the bedroom door to fetch his plate. 

“May I come in?” Cas says.

“Yeah, but good luck getting him to talk to you.” Sam snorts. “He hasn’t even eaten dinner. Though I guess apple pie ice cream might help.”

* * *

Castiel stops to get a spoon before knocking hesitantly on Sam and Dean’s bedroom door. He makes sure not to step on the plate of Mac and Cheese, resting untouched on the floor. He can hear sounds of music, probably classic rock, floating under the door.

He waits for a minute, and then knocks again. 

“Go away, Sam!” Dean yells. His voice is muffled. 

“I am not Sam.” Castiel says, slightly raising his voice so that Dean can hear him through the door. 

There’s silence for a second, then sounds of movement. The door is flung open. Dean’s hair is rumpled and his freckled cheeks are wet. 

“Dammit, Cas.” He says. “What are you doing here?”

Castiel blinks. 

“I brought you ice cream.” He says, holding it out as an offering. 

Dean looks at it through his tears. 

“That’s-” he says. “That’s apple pie flavor.” 

“Yes.” Castiel says. 

“They stopped making that kind.” Dean says. 

“I observed how much you enjoyed it, and purchased several containers in case the occasion rose for you to need one.” He frowns. “But my brother Gabriel seems to have eaten two.” 

He holds the ice cream out to Dean with more insistence. 

Dean seems to be at a loss for words. Castiel worries he has come off as too strange. He hopes Dean does not close the door in his face. Castiel has questionable social skills, and most people either frighten or bore him. But he really likes the Winchesters, and he really likes Dean, and he hates to think what would happen if he has ruined the tentative friendship between them. 

“Wow…” Dean says. He looks… happy? Yes, happy. “Thanks.” Castiel feels a surge of his own happiness. He made Dean smile. 

Dean takes the ice cream. Instead of closing the door in Castiel’s face, he says, “You wanna come in?” 

Castiel, caught off-guard, nods. 

There is, indeed, a classic rock song playing. Dean has a record player, an old one by the looks of it, and from the speakers come the words  _ baby, baby, I wanna leave you. _

Dean and Sam’s bedroom is small, with two twin beds pushed up against a wall, a desk (Sam’s) piled with books and papers, the wall above it plastered with a collage of essays with big A’s written at the top. Sam’s side of the room is neat, while Dean’s is cluttered. Castiel is an organized person, but he finds Dean’s mess endearing. 

_ I ain’t jokin’, woman, I got to ramble,  _ sings the record player. 

Dean slumps down on his bed and opens the ice cream. It’s slightly melty now- Castiel had to walk to the Winchesters’ apartment because he didn’t dare ask for a ride, and though he’s sixteen, he doesn’t have his license. 

Castiel hands him the spoon. 

“You really do think of everything, don’t you?” He smiles at Castiel. He is a very beautiful person. Castiel already knows this, but he’s struck with it yet again. Heat flames up on his cheeks. 

“I suppose.” Castiel says. “I like to be thorough.” 

Dean nods. “You just gonna stand there?” 

Castiel carefully sits down on the very edge of Sam’s bed, facing Dean. He watches Dean close his eyes in pleasure from the taste of the apple pie ice cream. 

“Cas, I wanna know-” Dean says, swallowing the bite. He opens his eyes to catch Castiel staring at him. Castiel looks at Dean’s comforter instead. “-how come you’re doin’ this? Don’t get me wrong, it’s made me feel a hell of a lot better, but when you think about it, it’s kinda… stalkery.” 

“I apologize if I made you feel uncomfortable, Dean.” Castiel says. “I saw that you were in pain and I wished to help. I have spent a great deal of time around you after befriending Sam, and I have begun to see you as a friend. Forgive me if my assumption is incorrect.” 

“You wanna be my friend?” Dean says through another bite. 

“Yes.” Castiel says, the heat under his cheeks spreading. He hopes Dean does not notice. “I would like to be your friend, Dean Winchester.”

Dean looks him over. “You know, you’re cool, Cas.” He says. “Kinda strange, but you know, good.” He grins. “Sure, we can be friends.” 

Castiel manages a smile back. “Thank you.” 

Dean frowns at him. “What’re you saying thanks for?”

Now Castiel knows he’s blushing. “Besides Sam, you are my first real friend.” 

“Man, that’s depressing.” Dean says. 

Castiel performs a gesture he has observed Dean execute. He shrugs. 

“Okay, dude, I have nothing to do.” Dean says. “Have you ever seen  _ Indiana Jones _ ?” 

Castiel shakes his head. 

“As your friend, your pop culture education begins now.” Dean says. He reaches over, shuts off his sad music, and stands up, one hand still around his ice cream carton. 

Castiel can do nothing but follow Dean. His new friend Dean. 

A large smile finds its way onto his face. 

* * *

“That is Han Solo.” Cas points at the screen. Indy’s in the temple.

“In this movie, he’s Indiana Jones.” Dean says. 

“Han Solo changed his identity?” Cas says. 

Dean laughs, not meanly, at Cas’s confused expression. It’s kind of cute. Well, it would be kind of cute, if he was into guys. Which he isn’t. Obviously. 

“Both of them are played by an actor named Harrison Ford.” Dean explains.

“Oh.” Cas says, but Dean can tell he still doesn’t get it. 

“ _ Throw me the idol, I’ll throw you the whip! _ ” Satipo says. 

Cas watches with a frown. 

“That man betrayed Han Solo.” Cas says. “Where is Chewbacca?” 

Dean can’t help it. He bursts out laughing. 

Cas still looks confused, but he gives a tentative smile. 

Dean points at Cas. “Don’t ever change.” 

“I was not planning to.” 

* * *

“You want a bite?” Dean says.

“We only have one spoon.” Cas says. Dean can tell he doesn’t want to get up, and Sam refuses to be a servant. 

“So?”

“There could be bacteria in one of our mouths that could be harmful to the other.” 

Dean raises his eyebrows. Cas seems genuinely concerned. 

“It’s good to take risks every once in awhile.” 

Cas widens his eyes, then opens his mouth. 

“Okay.” Dean laughs. “You could’ve taken the spoon.” But he feeds Cas anyway. 

Cas’s eyes widen further. “This is very good.” He says. 

“Yeah.” Dean says. He scrapes some off the side of the carton, trying not to think about the fact that he’s sharing spit with Cas. 

* * *

Castiel walks back alone and gets home late. Dean said he would’ve driven him if the Winchesters’ car, a 1967 Chevy Impala, was available, but their father had it for a business trip of some kind. Besides, Castiel thinks his parents would not take kindly to him arriving home late in a black Impala driven by someone they don’t know and who doesn’t go to their church. Castiel doesn’t think the Winchesters go to any church. He knows that Sam is a believer, but is fairly certain that Dean is not.

He’d left home at seven, after the Miltons had finished dinner, and now it’s past ten. He uses the key that he keeps around his neck, attached to his cross necklace, to unlock the door, and as quietly as possible steps inside, hoping his parents don’t notice or don’t care. If they notice, then they will care. Maybe Gabriel has helped Castiel the way he asked before he left, telling their parents that Castiel is in their bedroom studying. He knows Gabriel is willing to lie, but doesn’t know if Gabriel is willing to lie for him. 

Luckily, there’s no one in the front hall. He makes his way upstairs and closes the door to the bedroom he shares with Gabriel. He lets out a relieved sigh and leans against the door. 

“Where have you been?” 

He jumps. Anna is sitting on his bed, her arms crossed. 

Castiel glances at Gabriel, who’s reading a forbidden porn magazine on his own bed, smirking. Gabriel is two years older than Castiel, a senior, but has the maturity of an eleven-year-old. 

“Please don’t tell our parents!” Castiel blurts. 

“First, tell me where you’ve been.” 

“He’s been looking for his heterosexuality.” Gabriel says languidly. “Spoiler alert- he hasn’t found it. And he never will.” 

Castiel blushes bright red. “Gabriel,” he says through clenched teeth, “I am  _ not _ gay. You know that homosexuality is a sin.” 

Gabriel opens his mouth, but Anna says, “Shut up, Gabriel.” She turns back to Castiel. “I’m worried about you. Tell me where you  _ really _ were.” 

“I was at a friend’s house.” Castiel says. 

“I didn’t know you had friends.” Gabriel says. 

“Shut  _ up _ , Gabriel.” Anna repeats. “What friend, Castiel?” 

“Um…” Castiel says. 

“It’s his boyfriend, Dean Winchester.” Gabriel says. 

“Dean is not my boyfriend.” Castiel says. 

“You can’t shut up about him.” Gabriel says. “You’re blushing.” 

“Dean Winchester?” Anna says. “I know him. He’s in my grade.” 

Anna's a junior. 

“He’s very handsome.” Anna says. “But he has a terrible reputation.”

“I’m friends with his brother, Sam.” Castiel says. 

“Okay.” Anna says. She stands up and crosses over to Castiel. She’s two inches shorter than him but seems taller. “Sometimes I worry about you, Castiel. I won’t tell mother and father or our brothers that you were out this late.”

“Thank you.” Castiel says. 

“But you have to remember-” Anna says, and she frowns as though she doesn’t completely mean it, “-family comes first.” 

“Of course, Anna.” Castiel says. 

She kisses his cheek. “Sleep well.” Then she leaves. 

Gabriel puts down his magazine. “It’s always the preacher’s kid who sins the most, Cassie.” He says. 

Castiel ignores him. He changes into his pajamas, brushes his teeth for three minutes in the bathroom, says a quick prayer at the end of his bed, and definitely  _ doesn’t _ think about Dean while he’s falling asleep. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who left Kudos and comments on chapter one!  
> Hopefully this chapter is also good. It's a little shorter. I don't have a beta reader, and I'm almost never happy with what I write, so I can't tell if my dissatisfaction is because of my high standards or because this sucks :(. 
> 
> Notes: Not everyone's experiences within a Christian family are the same. I have grown up without strong religious beliefs, and Castiel's family and their beliefs are based around my mother's (very Catholic) family in her childhood, and the current experiences of one of my friends (whose stepfamily is Evangelical Christian). This means it won't be accurate to everyone. Please don't be offended if what I describe in this story is different to your own view of growing up in this kind of environment. 
> 
> Also: Dean and Castiel are already starting to like each other but Dean is in denial of his sexuality and Castiel thinks he's going to Hell, so this is probably/maybe/definitely going to be a slow burn. 
> 
> That is all of my stupid notes. 
> 
> Gosh, I love Cas so much. 
> 
> Again, thank you for reading my fic, and I hope it isn't terrible :)

The next day is Wednesday and Castiel wakes up at six-thirty. Gabriel’s still snoring as Castiel pulls a button-down shirt and blue sweater vest from his closet. He gets dressed and brushes his teeth for three minutes in the bathroom, then heads downstairs for breakfast.

His mother is making oatmeal with brown sugar. She smiles at him, her blue eyes softening with fondness. “Good morning, Castiel.” She says, putting a bowl down on the table. “You’re up early.”

“I wished to get an early start on the day.” Castiel says. For the first time in what seems like forever, he’s excited to go to school. Because Dean is his friend now. 

“Honey,” His mother catches his cheek with her hand and runs her thumb under his eye, “You look tired.”

“I haven’t been sleeping well.” Castiel says.

“Well, what’s caused that?” His mother says with concern.

Castiel performs that gesture again- a shrug.

He knows lying is a sin. But he’s hardly going to tell the truth to his mother. Even Castiel, who’s been taught to share everything, knows that some things are better kept in your own head.

“Well, make sure to tell me if it persists.” She says, pecking his forehead. “Would you like blueberries in your oatmeal?”

“Yes, please.” Castiel says. His mother rinses a handful in the sink and places them in his bowl. She sets it in front of him. “Thank you.”

He bows his head. “Bless the food I am about to consume and my mother, who prepared it. Amen.”

Mrs. Milton gives him a big smile. Castiel takes note of how tired she looks, herself. “You are my little angel, Castiel.”

Castiel blushes. He doesn’t take praise well.

Anna runs into the kitchen, her red hair flying.

“Good morning, Anna.” Their mother says.

“Notimemyride’swaiting.” Anna says. She snatches a bagel from the bread bowl. “ThanksmomIloveyouseeyoulater!”

She stops only to take her backpack from its hanger by the door, the bagel held in her mouth.

“Don’t forget to say grace!” Mrs. Milton calls after her. “Have a good day!”

Anna waves, then runs to a blue Prius waiting at the end of the driveway.

“Was she wearing makeup?” Castiel’s mother asks.

Castiel knows for a fact that Anna was, but he says, “I don’t think so.” Makeup isn’t allowed. Castiel’s family believes that one should be grateful with the beauty God gives to everyone, and that a pure soul is more important than any outer features. They don’t care about appearances, as long as they’re appropriate.

Castiel used to be content with this belief, until he met Dean. Dean’s soul is most certainly not pure (Castiel knows his reputation), but he is so… beautiful.

Gabriel is down last, scarfing down his oatmeal and Anna’s too without saying grace. He’s wearing a grubby tee shirt and jeans. Castiel feels almost bad about the disapproving look Gabriel receives from their mother, but he knows that Gabriel is not being respectful and he deserves it.

Castiel knows that he’s his mother’s favorite. He doesn’t take particular pride in it, just accepts it as a fact. He’s the youngest of six (no, five), the baby. Michael is his father’s favorite.

Gabriel is no one’s favorite.

He doesn’t seem to let it bother him, though.

Gabriel, too, has a ride, which leaves Castiel to take the bus alone.

“Mother,” he says before he leaves, “may I please take one of our muffins with me?”

“Of course, Castiel.” His mother says. “Still hungry? Teenage boys, you all have appetites like lions.”

“Something like that.” Castiel says, his mind somewhere else. He places the muffin (blueberry) on a plate, and heats it in the microwave for fifteen seconds. He wraps it in several napkins.

Castiel kisses his mother on the cheek and collects his homework, puts it in his backpack, and slowly walks to the bus stop, making sure to hold the muffin securely, the warmth seeping through the napkins into his fingers, up into his arms.

* * *

His bus ride is uneventful. He spends most of it reading. It’s a Christian novel, one his mother approves of. Secretly, Castiel likes the books in his school library more- books filled with a lot more than the power of God. He likes to read about teenagers that aren’t like him, teenagers growing up rough, teenagers falling in love, teenagers learning they have hidden powers they never knew about.

He loved _Harry Potter_ until his parents learned he was reading it. They told him it was filling his head with witchcraft and forced him to stop reading right before the end of _The Order of the Phoenix,_ right when everyone believes Harry that Voldemort is back.

Castiel was almost upset at that, but he knows his parents love him and know what’s best.

It’s raining when he gets to school. He pulls out his umbrella and opens it. It folds out like a wing. He’s still holding the muffin protectively to his chest.

Castiel’s taking the path to avoid the wet grass of the field when he hears his name. He’s probably imagining… no there it is again.

“Cas!”

He turns in the direction of the call to see Dean walking towards him through the wet football field.

“Hello, Dean.” Castiel says when Dean is in conversation distance.

“Hey, Cas.” Dean says with a grin, squinting through the raindrops on his eyelashes.

“What do you need?” Castiel asks.

Dean looks at him for a second.

“I’m your friend, remember?” Dean says.

“Yes.” Castiel says. “I would not forget.”

“Friends spend time with friends without needing anything from them.” Dean explains.

“Oh.” Castiel says. He blinks. “I did not know that.”

“I figured.”

Castiel feels the need to do _something_ for Dean. He notices how his friend’s hair is sticking to his ears and how a leather jacket doesn’t seem to be very warm.

Castiel steps so that his umbrella is covering Dean as well. It’s a tight fit- it isn’t a very big umbrella- but Castiel thinks that Dean might be cold, and being closer to another person generates more body heat.

Dean opens his mouth like he’s going to object, then closes it. He just says, “Thanks.” And leaves it at that.

They walk towards the front doors of the school together.

* * *

 

 Dean still doesn’t know how Cas is so _nice_. After sharing his umbrella, his strange new friend proceeds to hand him a small, warm thing wrapped in a few nice napkins.

“Jeez, Cas, what is this? Your hamster?” Dean says.

“I do not have a hamster.” Castiel says. “It is for you, Dean.”

Dean unwraps the napkins to reveal a blueberry muffin, fresh by the looks of it. It isn’t a big gift, but his mouth waters at the sight.

He looks at Cas questioningly.

“Sam told me that you don’t eat breakfast.” Cas says, an earnest expression on his face.

“You really are a stalker.” Dean says.

“Perhaps, but you get food out of the deal.” Cas says. A new expression crosses his face- a half-smile, his eyes filled with humor. Dean realizes that Cas has made a joke. 

Dean ignores how cute Cas’s face is.

“Yes, I get at least that.” Dean says. “Which lunch period do you have?”

“Third.” Cas says.

“Same.” Dean says. “Where will you be?”

“Why? Would you like my food again?”

Dean shrugs.

“Friends do more than eat each others’ food, Cas.”

“Like what?” Cas says. He seems genuinely interested.

“Like hang out. And talk.”

“I am not very skilled at ‘hanging out’. And my conversation skills are weak at best.” Anxiety radiates from Cas. “Dean, perhaps you should not be my friend. You have much cooler friends than me and it would be in your best interests not to be seen in my company.”

“Get over yourself, Cas.” Dean says. “Come on, I don’t want to talk to my other friends today.”

“Because they know of your failed relationship with Cassie Robinson?”

Dean sighs. He doesn’t want to think about his ‘failed relationship’. “Yeah. Okay, most of them were there when she dumped me.”

“I am sorry, Dean.” Cas puts a hand on Dean’s shoulder.

“‘s fine.” Dean says, though it isn’t. “Just, when you found me, I had kinda… run away… from them. Now they all know I’m junkless.”

“You do not have a-”

“It’s a figure of speech.”

“Oh.”

“They saw me fucking cry.” Dean shakes his head.

“So you are ‘hanging out’ with me because you do not want to face your regular friend group and I am the next readily available.” Cas says.

Dean looks at him. Cas doesn’t look upset by this at all, it’s just a statement.

“You make it sound like I’m using you.” Dean says.

“I suppose.”

“Shouldn't you be mad?”

“Maybe. I’m not.” Cas says. “I would like to be your friend very much, Dean Winchester, and I do not mind helping you. Even if my desire for friendship is not reciprocated.”

Dean’s quiet for a minute. He suddenly feels very bad.

“Why?” He finally says. “Do you want to be my friend.”

“Because I believe you are more than the image you choose to project. And I think that maybe you are lonely.” Cas has fixed him with that soul-probing stare again. “I know you are very private and do not like to form bonds beyond your family, and I may be intruding on your privacy, but I do wish to help you.”

Cas finally looks away and the intensity fades. Kind of. “It is time for first period. I will see you at lunch, Dean Winchester, unless you change your mind and wish to terminate our friendship.”

He shakes out his umbrella. “Eat your breakfast.” Then he’s off in a different direction down the hall.

If that had been anyone else, Dean would’ve… well, he doesn’t know what he would’ve done, but it would not have been ‘let it happen’.

Cas is strange. _Really_ strange. He showed up in Dean’s life a few months ago with a History textbook and a lot of big words, and Dean never stopped to think that maybe this weird little nerdy guy was anything but Sam’s tutor. He didn’t consider that what little conversation they made when Sam was in the bathroom or getting snacks was actually enjoyable. Or that Cas was maybe observing the Winchesters’ life a little more than either of them had intended.

He knows that Cas is religious because of the cross necklace he wears and how he’s so uptight and is obviously a virgin and doesn’t swear and has four fucking siblings. Religious people tend to make Dean nervous because what his father does for a living looks a hell of a lot like Satan worship and he’s already been judged enough by everyone else he’s ever met.

But Dean likes Cas. Likes him and his weird-ass trench coat and his habit of knowing exactly what Dean needs at any time. For the first time in ever, Dean feels _known_. Feels like there’s someone besides Sammy who gives a fuck, and, unlike Sammy, can maybe understand him.

And it’s a really, really, really good feeling.

He eats his muffin, and tries not to dwell on the fact that the last person to take care of him had burned on the ceiling.

He also tries not to dwell on the fact that Cas was wearing a blue sweater vest, and as fucking nerdy as that is, it made his eyes look kind of… pretty.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you again for reading!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Sorry it's been a few days. Again, thank you to everyone who's commented and left kudos!
> 
> Again, not sure if I'm a perfectionist or my writing is sucky. 
> 
> I think this chapter is really long. 
> 
> This next chapter has a bit of a time skip from the last one (ten days) because I wanted to get to the part where it starts to get good... Just know that Cas is like the bestest friend you could ever wish for and keeps doing stuff he doesn't need to for Dean.

_ What are you doing, Castiel?  _

It’s a week and a half later, and Castiel doesn’t stay downstairs to eat a snack like he usually does on Friday afternoons. He takes an apple, gives his mother a quick peck on the cheek, and mumbles something about a lot of homework, then retreats up to his bedroom. Stepping over Gabriel’s mess, he finds his way to his desk and sits down. 

He does not have a lot of homework. 

Castiel doesn’t know what he’s doing. He met Dean while tutoring Sam, sullen teenager ‘stay out of my hair’ Dean, and suddenly the whole world looked different. Castiel likes feeling like he’s helping people, and helping Dean with the aftermath of his breakup was purely motivated by that, but he doesn’t think he’s doing this for Sam’s older brother anymore. Castiel’s motives have turned purely selfish, and he doesn’t like it. 

Since the muffin, he’s helped Dean study for a Chemistry test, given Dean half of four sandwiches and several apples, lent Dean his umbrella to walk home with, and spent hours getting his ‘pop culture education’ in the Winchesters’ small apartment. For the first time in his life, he’s staying up late to get his own homework done because he spends all afternoon with Dean, helping Dean with  _ his  _ homework and not getting much done because they get distracted talking about other things. Castiel had even lent Dean $50 when the Winchesters ran out of food and Dean’s part-time job wasn’t paying for another week.

And the thing is, Dean never asks him for any of it. Not for the food or the money or the help or the one time when Sam had a full mental breakdown over school and Castiel had calmed him because Dean can’t handle seeing his little brother cry. Dean has only gratitude and never requests, and yet if he calls, Castiel will pick up on the first ring. 

Castiel never asks for anything in return. And it may seem selfless, but he really is selfish. 

He doesn’t need to be paid back because spending time with Dean, being Dean’s friend and hearing him laugh about things Castiel doesn’t understand and watching his face light up when he finally gets something Castiel has been trying to teach him is like light from Heaven itself shining right on him. 

He’s never had a real friend before. He was popular enough at Sunday school, being the preacher’s kid and Michael and Raphael Milton’s younger brother, until everyone realized how much of an antisocial freak he was. Not even kids who preferred Church over TV liked Castiel. 

And now here’s Dean, who by all means is what people call a ‘bad boy’ with his leather and fuck-it-all attitude and definite lack of virginity, with his popularity and ‘coolness’, and he wants to be Castiel’s friend. 

Dean is ‘hanging out’ with Castiel. They exchanged cellphone numbers. They’ve sat together at lunch, every day, out in the field on the bleachers even though Castiel is pretty sure that’s against the rules. And they have real conversations, ones where Dean says something and Castiel says something back and then Dean laughs, a real, genuine laugh, both rare and captivating. The only other person Castiel has ever made laugh is Gabriel, and that was  _ at  _ him, and Gabriel’s laugh isn’t nearly as charming as Dean’s is.

Castiel is so glad he found Dean crying the Tuesday before last. He's so glad he brought ice cream and stayed to watch Indiana Jones. He's so glad for everything after. 

They’ve talked about Castiel’s opinions on  _ Raiders of the Lost Ark  _ (confusing, but compelling), and Dean’s grades (‘I’m failing everything, man, Sam’s the smart one’) (Castiel had protested to this, remarking on Dean’s hesitant but apparent intelligence, and that’s when he stopped tutoring Sam and started tutoring Dean), , and the book they’re reading for 10-11 English (‘That Gatsby guy sure is a messed-up dude’ ‘He loves Daisy; love can make people do stupid things’). And so much more. 

Not once have they said anything about religion.

Castiel’s parents have always warned him against making friends outside of their faith. They want him to stay safe, his thoughts untainted. Castiel doesn’t think his thoughts are being tainted by Dean. Sure, Dean swears and sometimes talks about sex, and Castiel knows that he’s had his share of Earthly Pleasures, but he’s respectful of Castiel and doesn’t ever try to tempt him to anything sinful. 

Castiel doesn’t like the realization that he’s more comfortable with Dean than with the people he’s known since his childhood at Church. Dean doesn’t look at him with a judgmental eye, and Castiel feels  _ different _ around him. More free, happier. Not confined by what everyone expects of him. With Dean, Castiel just feels like a person, and it’s the best feeling in the world. 

Maybe his thoughts  _ are _ being tainted. The best feeling in the world should be the love of God. The most important thing should be his faith and his family. Only, over the months he’s known Dean and the few day’s he’s  _ known  _ him, both of these things have faded out of color, outshone by the vibrant apple green of the older Winchester’s eyes. Maybe Castiel’s parents are right and Dean is a forbidden fruit, seemingly the only thing he needs but in reality a trap. Suddenly the apple he took from the kitchen looks a lot less appetizing. 

Castiel just doesn’t know how somebody so good could be something bad. 

He takes out his English homework, hoping some 1920’s drama will work as distraction, but it doesn’t. He can’t focus. 

He lets his thoughts slip off into Monday, when he’ll see Dean again and once more feel free. For a few unreal minutes, his soul flies, unchained and exhilarated, and he can almost hear Dean’s joyful laughter and taste happiness on his tongue. 

But reality hits hard, and Castiel is back in his small bedroom where God can see him. A wooden crucifix hangs heavy over the desk, Jesus staring down at Castiel like he  _ knows. _

What exactly Jesus knows, Castiel is nervous to discover for himself.

* * *

 

Dean didn’t cook last night, so Sam says he has to tonight. He groans and searches for Ramen in the pantry.

“Can’t you make real food for once?” Sam says from the doorway. 

Dean runs a hand through his hair. “We can’t afford it, Sammy.” He says. He hasn’t told Sam about the money Cas gave them. It was lifesaving, and Dean knew Cas hadn’t meant to be condescending, but he still couldn’t bring himself to look his baby brother in the eyes and tell him that Castiel Milton was the only reason they had food at all. 

Dad hadn’t left them much money. 

“Vegetables don’t cost that much more.” 

“I can’t make ‘em, anyway. You know I’m shit at cooking.” 

Sam sits down. “We don’t eat anything but sodium and fat. We’re gonna die from heart failure, Dean.” 

“I prefer to think I’ll die hunting.” Dean says. 

“Yeah, well, I’d like to live past forty-five, thanks.” Sam says sullenly. 

Dean would normally yell at Sam, but his heart’s not in it. 

“We’ll eat right someday.” He walks over to stand behind Sam’s chair, leaning over to give his brother a kind of hug. “Okay, Sammy?”

Sam leans back into it. “Okay, Dean.”

* * *

 

Castiel heads back downstairs, where his mother is preparing dinner.

“Will Father be home tonight?” He asks from the doorway. 

“Oh!” His mother nearly drops the dish she’s holding, a glass bowl filled with green beans. “Castiel, you startled me!” 

“I apologize, mother.” 

She sets the bowl down on the island and crosses the kitchen to kiss his cheek. “No worries. No, though.” She pulls his chin up so that he can look at her. “Your father won’t be home for dinner tonight. He’s working late again.” 

She keeps a pleasant smile firm on her face, but Castiel can’t help but notice the backlighting of sadness in his mother’s eyes, which so perfectly mirror his own. 

He pulls her into a hug. 

She’s surprised but wraps her arms around him. “You’re getting so tall.” She says when she pulls back. “My baby. Still an angel, though.” 

Castiel gives her a warm smile. 

The oven timer goes off. His mother crosses back around the island, puts on a pair of oven mitts, and pulls out a tray of freshly baked rolls. 

“You’ve been distracted lately.” She observes, setting the pan on the island next to the green beans. 

“Have I?” Castiel says vaguely. 

“Yes. Like your mind is somewhere else.” 

“I have… made a friend.” Castiel says. 

“Really?” His mother is caught off-guard by that news. Never, in the history of the Milton household, has Castiel said those words. 

“Yes.” Castiel says, hoping to leave it at that. 

He doesn’t have such luck. 

“Who is he?” Castiel’s mother asks. “Do I know him?” (This translates to,  _ does he go to our church? _ )

“No.” Castiel says. “His name is Dean Winchester.” 

“Winchester…” His mother sprinkles salt over the green beans. “Weren’t you tutoring a… Sam Winchester?” 

“Yes. Dean is his brother.” Castiel says. 

“And what is Dean like?” 

“He appears sullen at first, but his heart is in the right place and he is extremely loyal to his family.” Castiel says. “And he is kind. He has no lack of popularity at school, but chooses to ‘hang out’ with me.” Hoping it will sell his mother, he continues- “He is also hardworking. He has a part-time job to help provide for Sam.” 

His mother doesn’t look very judgmental, but her lips are pursed- not a great sign. “They live alone?” 

“Their father is not at home very much. His job causes him to travel.”

“And their mother?”

“From my understanding, she passed away.” 

“Oh.” Castiel’s mother says. “Isn’t that awful.” 

“Yes.” 

“Have you prayed for them?” 

“Yes, I have.” 

“Do they believe?”

Castiel decides now is a good time to bend the truth. “I have not had confirmation in either direction.” 

“Ah.” His mother says. She’s silent for a minute. Then, she says, “It’s only six-thirty. Why don’t you invite the Winchesters to dinner?” 

Castiel was not expecting this. They have dinner guests fairly often, especially since Raphael moved out and there’s three (sometimes four, when his father’s gone) extra seats at their long table. But the guests are always women from the church and their families, the children of his parents’ friends who they hope he’ll befriend or marry someday. They almost never have the childrens’ friends over. Michael’s girlfriend came over once, as well as one of Anna’s friends, Eva. That’s pretty much the limit. 

“Really?” 

“If they’re available, then yes.” His mother says. “I want to meet them.”

* * *

 

“Would canned soup make you feel better?” Dean says, rifling deeper into the pantry. 

“What kind is it?” Sam says. 

“Tomato. Campbells.” 

Sam shrugs. 

“I’m making it.” Dean says with conviction. He slams it down on the counter and opens the utility drawer, digging through it to find the tool he needs.

“It’s better than Ramen again.” Sam says. 

“Shit.” Dean says.

“What?”

“I forgot we don’t have a can opener.”

“Use your swiss army knife.” 

“I broke it in Vermont, remember?” 

“I’d remember it better if I’d actually  _ been _ there.” 

Dean ruffles Sam’s hair. “You’ll go on jobs someday, Sammy.” He says. “Well, I guess it’s Ramen after all.” 

His phone chooses that moment to ring. 

He pulls it out of his pocket, hoping it’s Dad. It isn’t. 

“It’s Cas.” He informs Sam, and answers. 

“Hello, Dean.” Cas says. 

“Hey, Cas.” Dean says, leaning back on the formica counter. “What’s up?” 

“Birds, airplanes, roofs, clouds.” Cas says. “Why do you ask?”

“I meant, why are you calling me?” 

“My mother has… uh, well, she wishes to meet you and has invited you to dinner.” 

Well,  _ this  _ sounds interesting. 

“What’s cookin’?” 

“Green beans, rolls, and steak.” 

That does sound good. 

“And pie for dessert.” 

“We’re in.” Dean says immediately. 

“I must warn you, Dean- my mother will ask you very personal questions.” 

“I’ve done the ‘meet the parents’ thing before, Cas.” Dean says. “I know how this works.” 

“She is a very welcoming woman, but she does not take kindly to people outside of our church.” Cas sounds anxious. 

“Cas, it’ll be fine. I’m a great liar.” 

“I am sorry for rushing you into meeting my family.” Cas says. “They can be… overbearing.” 

“I’m sure I’ve seen worse.” Dean says. “One guy in Alabama threatened me with a shotgun if I broke up with his daughter. All or nothing, that guy.”

“Did you?”

“Yeah, but we were on the road before he could go all Wilson on me.” 

Cas is silent for a moment. 

“Dean… did you… did you make a reference to  _ The Great Gatsby _ ?” 

“Yeah.” Dean says, and even he’s surprised at himself. “I guess I did.” Maybe hanging out with Cas The Boy Genius is rubbing off on him. 

“Can you and Sam be here by seven?” 

“Yeah.” 

“And you’re sure you want to come? It’s alright if you say no.” 

“I’m sure, Cas.” 

Cas isn’t very good with goodbyes. He just hangs up. 

“Guess what, Sammy.” Dean says. “We’re going to eat real dinner. With vegetables.” 

He ignores how he’s oddly nervous, more so than when he ever met any of his girlfriends’ parents. He hopes Cas didn’t realize how Dean was talking to him like he was his girlfriend.

* * *

Cas’s house is Apple Pie and Jesus and the American Dream- a two-story Illinois colonial with a fucking American flag hanging on the front and a doormat that says Welcome and a sign on the door that says  _ Angels Are Watching Over You _ . It’s white with blue shutters on the windows, a two-car garage, and a perfectly manicured lawn. There’s even a fucking rosebush and Dean thinks the only things that are making him comfortable knocking on the door are the promise of pie and how _ excited _ Sam looks to have a proper meal.

Cas opens the door anxiously. “Hello, Dean.” He says. “And Sam. My father is working late, so it will just be my mother questioning you. My parents only want the best for me, but they can be aggressive in their crusade. Luckily, my mother is more mild.” 

Cas ushers them inside the front entryway. “Take your shoes off here.” He instructs. “Stand them up straight, and make sure they are perfectly in line. My mother loves organization.” 

A few more steps, and he says, “May I take your jackets?” 

Sam says, “Yes, thanks.” and hands Cas his coat but Dean keeps his. It feels like armor, and makes him feel more protected, from what, he doesn’t know. 

“Before we go into the dining room, you must know the topics of conversation to be avoided. School, extracurricular activities, and charitable work are safe. Do not ask about the number of chairs at the table. Do not ask about how many siblings I have. Do not ask why my father is not home. My mother is not fond of any of those subjects.” 

“Okay, Cas, dude, slow down.” Dean takes hold of his shoulders. “It’s gonna be fine.” 

“I apologize, Dean.” Cas says. “This is my first time having guests for dinner. First impressions are very important in my family.” 

There’s something else, a deeper worry in Cas’s eyes, that Dean doesn’t have the time or skill to dissect. It’s at this moment that a soft-looking woman with dark hair, silver at the roots, and the same blue eyes as Cas sweeps into the room. 

“Hello!” She says with a kind smile that doesn’t carry to her eyes. “You must be Sam and Dean. I’ve heard a lot about you from Castiel.” 

Cas already looks noticeably pinker. 

“Follow me,” she says, “the dining room is this way.”

* * *

 

“Mrs. Milton, this steak is delicious.” Sam says, struggling not to shove another bite into his mouth. He’s been eating like a starving person. Dean was a little worried, judging on Cas’s freaked-outedness, that Mrs. Milton would be disgusted by Sam’s complete lack of manners, but she seems to be okay with it.

There’s eight chairs at the table, but only six are filled. Two by Sam and Dean, one by Cas, one by Mrs. Milton, and another two by Cas’s other siblings that live at home, Gabriel and Anna. 

Gabriel has a bright, humor-filled face under a mop of auburn hair. He’s a senior, and a prankster to Dean’s knowledge. He keeps smirking at Dean in a way that makes him slightly uncomfortable. 

Anna is in Dean’s grade. She’s pretty, with round eyes and red hair, and she’s looking at him with that same intense expression Cas has, like she’s trying to see right down to the core of his soul. Dean would normally flirt with her (he finds the whole Purity Ring schoolgirl thing kind of a turn-on, and Anna’s totally got that going on), but Cas is his friend and if there’s anything Dean knows, it’s to not hook up with your friend’s sister. 

“Thank you, Sam.” Mrs. Milton beams at his brother. 

Dean knows the chairs he and Sam are in are probably Cas’s older brothers’- Michael and Raphael. And the first empty chair is his father’s. Which just leaves the question of who the eighth chair is for, and Dean isn’t about to ask because Cas told him not to. And yeah, maybe Cas was overreacting a little bit, but Dean doesn’t want to test the ease at the table now. 

Mrs. Milton turns her attention on him. “So, Dean, Castiel told me that you have a job.”

“Um- yeah, it’s only part time. I help out at a gas station, run the pumps, help if people have car trouble, stuff like that.” 

“Interesting.” She says with a tense smile. 

“Anything for a few extra bucks, right?” Dean says. There’s an uneasy laugh around the table. Dean hopes they don’t think he does prostitution or something. Oh, God. He has to learn how to think before he talks. 

“So, how did you and Castiel become friends?” 

“Yes, how  _ did  _ you?” Gabriel says with a smirk. Dean can see Anna elbow him. 

“Well, we’ve known each other for a few months- him tutoring Sam and all- but then a few weeks ago I was going through a bad breakup and Cas really helped me through it. We’ve been friends ever since.” 

“Oh.” Mrs. Milton turns to look at Cas. “Castiel, I didn’t know this. How nice of you to help Dean with his… breakup.”

Dean doesn’t miss the unmistakable look of judgment cross Mrs. Milton’s face. He wonders if she can smell fear- or casual sex. 

“Yes. Well. Friends help one another. Dean has given me a place to sit at lunch and a receptive ear to converse with. I am very grateful that he has come into my life.” Cas says, looking down at his plate.  

Dean feels his eyes widen. “You’re grateful that  _ I _ came into  _ your _ life?” He says, unable to contain his disbelief. “Dude, we’d probably be dead without you! If anything, you should be annoyed how much you have to take care of us!”  

Cas doesn’t look directly at him, but Cas’s roll gets a tiny smile. “I’m sure you would not be dead, Dean. And I am not annoyed. I enjoy spending time with you.”  

“What do you mean?” Anna says. She spoke near the beginning of the meal, but has fallen quiet again until now. “About him taking care of you?” 

“Cas’s been helping us with all sorts of stuff.” Dean says. Looking right at Anna, he says, “Seriously. Your brother’s a lifesaver.” 

Sam stops eating long enough to say, “Yeah, Cas’s an angel.” 

“Really, Castiel?” Mrs. Milton says. “Why have you been keeping this from us?” 

Cas is full-on blushing now, the red spreading through his pale skin to his ears. Gabriel is poking him. “I- I don’t know.” He says, eyes still trained firmly on his plate. “I suppose it just- slipped my mind.”

“When I asked you if you wanted to help with the church bake sale,” Mrs. Milton says, “you said you had a lot of homework. Were you telling the truth, Castiel?” 

“I did have a lot of homework. But I was also helping Dean with his.” Cas says quietly. “I apologize, mother.” 

“Castiel,” Mrs. Milton says, and now her eyes are sharp, “you know that family comes first. Our Lord comes first.” 

“Of course, mother.” 

The tension in the room has spiked about to a level 1000. Dean’s thinking about saying something to diffuse it- he feels awkward and like Cas getting chewed out is his fault, which it is and he really wants to apologize- but Gabriel beats him to it. 

“So, Sam.” Gabriel says with a grin. “From which side did you inherit your Moose characteristics?” 

“Gabriel!” Mrs. Milton says immediately. 

Cas’s shoulders, which had stiffened, noticeably relax. He looks at Dean. Dean expects Cas to glare at him, but there’s nothing there but an expression of exhausted, inescapable defeat. 

Sam and Dean stay for dessert. After, with a full stomach, Dean wants to thank Cas and tell him good night, but he doesn’t have the chance. The Winchesters are ushered out, Gabriel pats his back, Anna gives him a regretful look, and Dean has a good feeling Cas is getting yelled at tonight. 

Isn’t Christianity supposed to be about love and generosity? 

Maybe Dean had it wrong, because for the first time since he got Cas’s number, Cas doesn’t answer any of his calls that night. Dean doesn’t even get a text. 

On Monday, Cas is pale, tired, and distant.

When Dean asks him what's up, he avoids the question and won't quite look Dean in the eyes. 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You might have noticed I changed the title... it just struck me while writing this chapter and wouldn't let go. 
> 
> This fic has been mostly cute up until now, but the angst is starting to take hold. 
> 
> I must warn you, whenever I try to write a nice story, it always takes a dark turn. 
> 
> This chapter is a little bit shorter again~

Cas doesn’t sit with Dean at lunch on Monday. He doesn’t stay behind to talk to Dean after their shared English class. That night, when Dean calls, Cas doesn’t answer. This continues through Tuesday, then bleeds to Wednesday. 

It’s almost as if their friendship never existed. 

But Dean still sees it. Cas looks at him a total of four times, and Dean can still see the ghost of their friendship. It isn’t gone. Just as long as nobody shoots it full of rock salt, it might still be saved. 

Still, he worries and wonders if Cas will ever talk to him again. 

Without the quiet but constant presence of Cas that he’s grown accustomed to over the two weeks they were close, Dean realizes just how lonely his life had been before. He’d Sam, and the casual friends, and before their breakup, Cassie Robinson (who has, by this point, moved on with a football player- Dean’s surprised to learn that he doesn’t feel jealousy watching her hold hands with a new guy. Watching her figure recede, he feels only a sort of hollow sadness, but that’s more because he’s remembering the afternoon of their breakup). Dean’s always thought the long string of face-value friends and hookups would be enough to keep his craving for connection at bay. 

Having Cas as a friend has been different from the people he drank beer with behind school and sat in a pack with in the cafeteria, at every other school he’d gone to. 

Cas is inexperienced with friendship, and maybe normal life, at that, but talking with him, even seeing him, makes Dean feel better. 

For three excruciating days, the appearance of his friend no longer brings comfort, but only a deep, anxious feeling of dread. 

Finally, on Thursday, Cas speaks to him. 

It’s between classes. Dean’s walking down the hall, having chosen to be alone, when suddenly a hand emerges from the space between two blocks of lockers and pulls him into a shadowy, small space. 

Before Dean can say anything, Cas presses a cold, clean-smelling hand over his mouth. There’s hardly any space between them, their chests an inch apart in the cramped area. 

“ _ Shhh. _ ” He hisses. 

Dean’s eyes widen, but he says nothing. Maybe he’s been showing Cas too many movies. This has taken a turn for the dramatic. 

Cas peers around the corner. 

“Do you have to be anywhere after school?” He whispers. .

Dean shakes his head. 

“Meet me at the library.” Cas says. “Do not bring Sam.” 

He finally takes his lemon-scented hand off of Dean’s mouth. 

“Cas, what’s going on?” Dean says. 

“I have no time to explain.” Cas says. “I will be in the nonfiction section.” 

He sticks his head out again, scanning the hall. Then he darts off between the teenagers heading to class, leaving Dean’s head swimming with questions. 

* * *

Dean’s never been to the library in this part of town. He doesn’t go to libraries at all; it’s Sam who likes stacks of books and web browsers and research. Dean prefers the route of not doing homework at all.

It’s a two-story brick building. When he enters, Dean’s hit with a wall of air conditioning, even though it’s November and cold outside, as well as the smell of paper. The women at the front desk smile at him like he’s just another high school student coming in to find stuff for a report. He flashes them a smile back and asks where the nonfiction section is, to be told it’s upstairs. 

He climbs the flight to find another room filled with stacks. Rounding a row of bookshelves, he finds Cas standing underneath a hanging sign, with Dewey Decimal classifications printed on it.  

“200.” He reads. “Religion. Cas, are you  _ trying _ to be symbolic?” 

“Hello, Dean.” Cas says, not looking at him. “I don’t have long. I told my mother I have a research paper and she does not let me use the Internet. She expects me home in ten minutes. I can probably stretch it to fifteen.” 

“Cas,” Dean says, “What the hell is going on?” 

“My mother does not like my friendship with you, Dean.” Cas says, still avoiding Dean’s eyes. “She has asked Anna and Gabriel to keep an eye on me at school, to make sure I am not spending time with you. I bribed Gabriel with candy not to tell my mother what he sees, but Anna has not been so easily convinced and I dared not risk meeting with you at school. If I do not comply to my mother’s wishes, she has the power to pull me out of school and send me to Christian academy instead.” 

“Whoa, whoa whoa.” Dean says. “Cas, buddy, slow down. Your mom would pull you out of  _ school  _ to keep you from seeing me?” 

“Yes.” Cas says. “I am holding out the hope that this will blow over and she will cease such strict boundaries. Until then, I must remain on guard. My mother has many connections with our church. She sees  _ everything.”  _

“You’re making this sound like a spy movie or something-”

“This isn’t funny, Dean.” Cas says. His tone is dead serious. “She can and will do whatever it takes to keep me in the world she’s constructed.” 

“She’s really that judgmental that she won’t let you be  _ friends  _ with people like me?” 

Cas shakes his head. ‘It is not you she finds particularly concerning. It is your effect on me.” 

“What-”

“I have begun to distance myself from my family. In my faith, in my household,  _ family is everything _ .” 

“So, they’re trying to make you antisocial? Not talk to anyone but your parents and siblings?”

Cas sighs. “They want me to stay within the family created by our faith. My people believe that everyone in the Church is family. Non-believers are… outsiders. They are seen as dangerous. Poison for the mind, one may say.

“Not everyone I know is this vigilant,” Cas continues, “But it is very important to my parents that our minds, especially mine, are not spoiled by the outside world. Our Church is Eden to them, Dean. You’re the snake.” 

“Cas, are you hearing yourself?” Dean says in disbelief. Who could’ve thought that soft, suburban mother Mrs. Milton could be so… hardcore? Put stuff like that in her own son’s head? “This is fucking crazy! Your parents are keeping you in a cage. It isn’t healthy… I know you’ve grown up like this, but you must know it’s bad.” 

For the first time since he dragged Dean between the lockers, Cas looks him straight in the eye. He grabs Dean’s shoulders with a strength he didn’t know Cas could possess. Though his face is angry, his eyes are just sad, pleading for something Dean knows he can’t give. 

“You don’t understand, Dean.” Cas says with quiet, simmering intensity. His eyes are drilling through Dean’s brain into his chest. “I cannot rebel. I know that my parents are not in the right. I came to that conclusion this week. But I  _ cannot _ rebel. If I did, the consequences would be disastrous.” 

He isn’t lying. 

Cas looks… afraid. 

He lets go of Dean’s shoulders in a sudden movement, drops his gaze to the ground. His voice is barely audible. “I am sorry for dragging you into this. I understand if you do not want to be my friend anymore. It would be much easier for us to cut off all contact and go our separate ways.” 

Every cell of logic in Dean’s body is telling him to agree. To walk away and not look back. He has Sam to take care of, and work to do, and yeah, Cas is his friend, but he isn’t blood. Hard reasoning points to letting this all slide away and watching it become nothing but a memory of the nice friendship he had for such a short time in Junior year. 

But logic is being overpowered by something else. He looks at the way Cas’s shoulders are hunched, the utter defeat etched into his face. And he thinks that this boy has done everything Dean needed of him and more in these past few weeks. 

He wishes, now, more than anything, that he could somehow help Cas back. 

“No.” Dean says. 

Cas’s eyes flick up. 

“I still want to be your friend.” Dean says with no hesitation. 

Cas’s face doesn’t change, but his body does. It somehow opens up, gesturing hope. 

“Really, Dean, it would be better for you to leave now.” Cas says. 

“You many not want to admit it, but you’re in a really shitty situation. I know about really shitty situations. That’s my life.” Dean says. Without thinking, he reaches out and takes Cas’s hand. “I won’t leave you to rot. Not when you’ve helped me and Sammy so much. Not when… not when maybe _ I  _ can help  _ you _ .” 

Cas stares at their interlocked hands, but he doesn’t pull away. His fingers tighten around Dean’s palm. 

“What do you mean, ‘consequences’?” Dean says quietly. 

Cas just shakes his head. 

“Hey,” Dean says. 

Cas stumbles forward, and Dean wraps his arms around Cas’s thin waist. Through layers of clothing, he can feel his friend’s ribs. Cas practically clings to Dean, his hands gripping tight at the fabric of the back of Dean’s shirt, his head resting on Dean’s strong shoulder, face buried in fabric. Dean thinks he feels wet through his flannel but doesn’t say anything. His hand instinctively brushes through the back of Cas’s messy hair, a gesture of comfort he often uses for Sam. 

“Dean,” Cas says, his voice broken. 

“I’m gonna help you.” Dean says, low in Cas’s ear. “Don’t worry, I’m gonna help you.” 

It’s a promise. 

He lets Cas silently cry. After a few minutes, Cas loosens his hold and steps out of the embrace, takes a random book from the shelf, and runs down the stairs, wiping his face on his trenchcoat. Dean can only stare after him, the silence weighing in his throat, feeling he should say something but knowing words don’t help when you’re scared of the very people who brought you into the world. 

Dean wonders what he’s getting himself into, but realizes he’s already too deep to see the bottom.

* * *

Castiel wishes for a lot of things.

He wishes to go back nine years, to when his father was always around and his mother used smiling as an indication of happiness and not a defense mechanism. When Michael was still just his serious older brother, and Raphael didn’t have premature worry lines, when Gabriel teased him mercilessly and it didn’t make him have a borderline panic attack, when he and Anna played together in the backyard, when Michael took them to playgrounds and Gabriel was taller and the best at tag. 

He wishes for a life without fear. 

He wishes for the eighth chair to not be empty. 

He wishes he didn’t have to be Castiel. 

He wishes that his mother liked Dean. 

Or, he wishes he didn’t like Dean quite so much. 

He wishes there was some sort of medium. 

He wishes he wasn’t confused. He wishes for everything to be simple. He wishes things could go back to black-and-white, instead of the blinding color the world has suddenly burst into. 

Laying in bed on Thursday night, listening to Gabriel snore, Castiel wonders what he wishes for the most. 

Wiping a tear from his cheek, he wishes Dean could hold him, just for another minute, and wishes he didn’t wish for it at all. 

He puts his pillow over his face and wishes for it to smother his thoughts away. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I might have made this chapter a little bit too shippy. I'm trying to make it a slow burn, but then Cas decided to cry in Dean's arms and Dean decided to let him and basically all that's missing is for them to both sit in deep thought for a chapter and then make out. 
> 
> Grr, they're too nice to each other. I just can't make them fight. I can't do it! I'm very frustrated because I did not want them to be so nice and cute and good to each other and then my fingers moved in a way on the keyboard that they were not supposed to. 
> 
> So now it's less of a burn and more of a pleasant warmth.
> 
> I'll just have to put a lot of angst in to make up for the good relationship between the characters. 
> 
> whyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's been a few days since I updated! So... there's something going on in Cas's family and you might be confused by his conversation with Anna but no worries, it will be explained later. 
> 
> Also, I'm trying not to make them be in love at this point, but they so are already and I apologize because they're terrible at communication and won't talk about it for, like, a lot more chapters. 
> 
> Lastly, I apologize if this chapter is bad. I just wrote it and really wanted to post it before people thought I had abandoned this fic or died or something. It's nearly 1 AM where I live and I have a tendency to write sloppily when I'm tired.

Friday trudges by with only a few stolen glances in the hallway. During English, Dean passes Castiel a note in large, surprisingly neat handwriting. .

_You okay?_

Castiel waits until the teacher’s back is turned, then passes back- _I am fine._

_No you arent._

Castiel contemplates the apt note for a second. He writes back in cramped cursive, _My mother has confiscated my phone. She is distressed by how much you call._

_I miss you._

Heat comes to Castiel’s cheeks at that. He glances briefly up at Dean, whose eyes are glued onto him.

The bell rings. Castiel folds up the piece of paper and puts it in the pocket of his trench coat. He doesn’t take out a book on the bus home; instead traces his fingers over Dean’s scrawl. _I miss you._

_I miss you too, Dean._ He replies in his head, but Dean will never see.

* * *

 

On Saturday, Castiel’s patience is just about spent and he decides to confront Anna sooner rather than later.

“Anna, I need to talk to you.” Castiel says. “In private.”

Anna puts her book down. She looks questioning.

“Please.” He says.

He ends up sitting next to her on her bed. Anna’s the only Milton sibling who has their own room. Even with a spare bedroom now that Michael and Raphael are both gone, neither Castiel nor Gabriel have moved out of their shared quarters. It’s something about sentimentality, Castiel thinks, that’s kept Gabriel in his corner of their blue-painted room when he has a chance at independence.

“What is it, Castiel?” She says. Anna’s room is yellow, her bedspread checkered, matching curtains on the window. Castiel has always thought her bedroom belongs in a farmhouse, deep in the country. The fact that Anna used to wear her hair in braids and had freckles only adds to the illusion.

She’s grown out of it, now. She isn’t a little girl anymore. The same way Castiel is no longer a gap-toothed boy sitting alone on the swings at recess. People change. The Miltons know this fact all too well, but they don’t acknowledge it.

Castiel takes a deep breath. He’s asked Anna for more, but never at such a risk.

“I need you to help me…” he says, calming his nerves, “...with Dean.”

Anna’s round eyes get rounder and she gets up, walking across the room to close the door. She doesn’t sit back down.

“Dean Winchester?” She says.

“How many other Deans do I know?” Castiel says tiredly. “I need you to lie for me.”

Anna’s expression goes dark. “Castiel, I have no idea-”

“I know Mother has asked you to keep an eye on me, to make sure I am not meeting with him at school. I need you to lie and tell her that I’m not.”

Anna looks at him, hard. “You would never ask me to do such a thing in the past.” She says. “You’ve changed.”

“People change.”

“Dean is doing this to you, Castiel.” She warns. “There’s a reason Mother doesn’t want you seeing him.”

“Look, Anna.” Castiel says. “I would not ask you if it were not important. You know my requests are not hollow. This is… vital to me.”

Anna’s shaking her head.

“Please.” Castiel says.

“Lying is a sin.” Anna says.

“You’ve lied before.” Castiel says. “I’ve lied for you before.”

Anna blanches.

“I know about your boyfriend.” He continues. “He doesn’t go to our church, does he? I know you sneak out sometimes; your preferred tree is quite close to my window. I have covered for you on multiple occasions.”

“Castiel-”

“You are not worried about lying are you?” Castiel says. “You’ve begun rebellion, as well. No, you are worried about my purpose for it.”

“Fine.” Anna says. “Fine- I’m worried about _you_ , Castiel. I’m worried about what Dean’s doing to you.”

“What do you mean?” Castiel says warily.

“You spend so much time with him-”

“He is my friend.”

“You’re so attached to him-”

“He is my _first friend_ , Anna.” Castiel snaps. “He is the first person who’s wanted to be friends with me. Not because of my family, or because they were forced to, but because of _me_.” His hand clenches around the yellow and white comforter.

“I understand that, Castiel, but-”

“No, Anna, I don’t think you do-”

“I _do_ , but _Dean Winchester_ \- he’s trouble. You can smell it on him. And he’s got you tied up- at this point, you couldn’t get away even if you tried.”

“The assumptions you have made about Dean are incorrect. Our friendship is beneficial to both of us. He is not bad. His love for his younger brother and kindness to me surpass anything I have experienced.”

Castiel is trying to keep his tone controlled, trying not to show how angry his sister is making him feel at the moment. He knows, he knows, he _knows_ she loves him and just wants what’s best for him, but for the first time in his life Castiel is wondering if what’s _best_ for him is what he really wants.

“I get it, I get that Dean’s your best friend.” Anna says. “And I know you care about him, and all that, but I’m just worried- I’m just worried that maybe you’re-”

“I’m _what_?” Castiel says, his voice growing dangerous no matter how much he tries to fight it.

“You’re starting to like him a little bit _too_ much.”

Silence hangs in the room for a second.

“I know Gabriel was joking a few weeks ago.” Anna says. “But I have concern that-”

“That _what_ , Anna?” Castiel bites, fighting back the tears forming in his eyes. He can’t look at his sister. “That I’m like _him_ ? That there’s something _wrong_ with me?”

The venom in his words causes her to take an involuntary step back.

“I’m not accusing you of anything, Castiel.” She says.

“Really?” Castiel says. “Because it seems like you’re accusing me of a lot.”

“I’m not saying you’re like him.” Anna tries to say. “I’m not comparing you to Lu-”

“Don’t!” Castiel blurts. “Don’t say it.”

“I’m not saying you’re anything like him.” Anna says. “I’m just voicing my fear. You’re my little brother, and I love you, no matter what you are.” She crosses the room to stand in front of him. “But- our parents need you. Our family needs you. And if you turn out… _wrong_ , even a little bit, it could ruin… everything.”

“Do you know what _I_ need, Anna?” Castiel says. “Has anyone ever asked what _I_ need?” He doesn’t wait for an answer. “I need to see Dean. I have to. I need to see someone who doesn’t need _me_ to be _perfect_ every second we’re together.”

“Just wait-”

“No.” Castiel says. “No.” It feels good. “I’m not going to wait. What happened to freedom, Anna? What happened to your dreams of getting out? What happened to you trying to convince me that I should run away too? Or have you finally seen that if you rebel, I’m the only thing our parents will have left? Have you finally seen that I am what gets left behind so that you and Gabriel can run? I am not some… some _anchor_ , Anna. I am a human being. And with all your talk of getting free and thinking for yourself, you’re nothing but a lying, selfish _hypocrite_!”

He storms out of the room before she can muster up an answer, slamming her cheery door behind him.

In his own bedroom, he collapses in tears.

* * *

 

On Monday, Castiel sees Dean in the hallway and doesn’t keep walking.

“Cas?” Dean says, like he’s afraid to believe it’s really Castiel standing a foot from his face.

“Hello, Dean.”

“Are you-”

“I have spoken with Anna.” Castiel says. “She is willing to… cover for me.”

Dean’s face breaks into a wide smile, his green eyes brightening. Castiel finds it makes him smile too.

“That’s… well, that’s awesome, Cas!” Dean says.

“Really?” Castiel says. He was expecting some excitement from Dean, but not this much.

“Really.” Dean says. “We’ve missed you. Sammy. And me.”

The ‘and me’ seems to carry extra weight.

“So we’re good?” Dean says.

“You’re sure you’d still rather hang out with me than your other friends?” Castiel says.

“Hell, yes.” Dean says, grabbing Castiel’s arm and pulling him down the hall beside him. “Those guys are-”

“Assbutts?” Castiel supplies.

Dean looks at him for a second, then bursts out laughing. Several students in the hallway turn to look at the pair of them.

“Assbuts!” Dean snorts. “Where’d you learn that?”

“Gabriel.” Castiel says. “Is it not an acceptable profanity?”

“No…” Dean’s still laughing a little “... it’s great. I’ve told you not to change, right?”

“Yes.” Castiel says.

“Well, I’m glad you’re back, Cas.”

Castiel doesn’t protest that he never left. He understands what Dean means.

“Oh!” He remembers one more thing. “I have something for you, Dean.”

“Really?” Dean says.

Cas pulls a slightly squashed, still warm blueberry muffin from his trenchcoat pocket.

“I take it you still don’t eat breakfast.”

Dean gives him a world-breaking grin. “Man,” He says, taking a bite of muffin, “I’m eternally grateful Sam sucked at History.”

Castiel returns his grin, and they walk towards the group of math classrooms, Dean’s left hand still gripping Castiel’s right forearm. If he moved it down, they would be holding hands.

Castiel feels someone watching him. He turns his head to see Anna fixing him with an accusing stare.

Later, he meets with her between classes.

“I won’t tell on you.” Anna says. “But I hope you know what you’re doing, Castiel.”

He nods.

“And-” she says before he can leave, “-that you’ll know when you need to stop.”

* * *

Cas comes home with Dean after school.

Sammy’s thrilled to see him, of course. He’s recently read a book he keeps saying Cas will like, and now the nerds are chatting about science and reading and other stuff Dean will never be good at.

He’d normally be annoyed, but today, Dean is content to watch. He stretches out on the couch so he has a good viewing spot. He’s missed Cas’s friendship. A lot. Sammy has too. And Dean’s had all day with the trenchcoat-clad boy; he figures it’s only fair to give his brother a turn. Cas does that to him. Makes him more generous. Kinder. Dean’s never been particularly gracious to the world in his thoughts, but he’s more forgiving with Cas around, more of an optimist.

He finds he doesn’t have time to be cynical around someone who embodies what Dean thinks goodness is.

He doesn’t realize Cas’s conversation with Sam has ended and Cas is sitting next to him until he feels the slight pressure on his left shoulder. There’s his friend, staring at him thoughtfully.

Dean doesn’t like other people touching him; he likes to initiate it, but this is fine. Just a gentle hand and a warm, fond look in Cas’s eyes.

“You are my best friend.” Cas says.

“I’m your only friend.” Dean says, not meanly.

“Yes, but even if I had others, you would still be the best.”

Dean really looks at him. Cas is earnest all the way, his blue eyes pure and good in intent, his appearance rumpled but pleasing.

“I think you’re my best friend, too.” Dean says, and he means it.

Cas leans his head on Dean’s shoulder. Dean stiffens at first, completely unused to the contact, even from Sammy. But it’s nice, just to sit there with Cas, their silence comfortable, their sides pressed together. Dean wouldn’t even _think_ about doing this with another male friend, with _anybody_ really, but Cas isn’t just anybody.

“I missed you a lot, Cas.” He mumbles, not sure how it’s even able to come out of his mouth.

“And I you, Dean.” Cas says softly from the left.

They’re quiet for a few more minutes until Sam stomps into Dean’s line of sight. His arms are crossed, a grumpy expression on his face.

“What the hell happened to ‘no chick flick moments’?” He says, glaring at their close position, though he seems rather amused by the whole thing.

“Fuck off, Sammy.” Dean says lazily.

“Yeah, I’m the one doing the fucking.” Sam teases, sticking his tongue out.

“I will end you.” Dean says, but Cas’s hand finds his arm and he doesn’t move for a while after that. Sam giggles at the pair, but retreats, leaving them curled on the couch, neither quite willing to break contact.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dean and Cas weren't supposed to cuddle in this chapter. I swear to Chuck they weren't. They just kind of... did...and I went along with it. Writing is weird.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What's a high school fic without a party? 
> 
> Or, Cas's feelings for Dean are getting increasingly confusing and Dean gets wasted.

That Friday, Castiel’s parents are out of town, so Gabriel decides it’s time to throw a party.

“I'll call mom and dad.” Anna says.

“No you won't. You're starved for fun just like the rest of us.” Gabriel says.

“Then Castiel will.”

“Castiel doesn't have the balls.”

“ _Gabriel!”_

“Shut up and get some chips, will you?”

Anna grumbles but grabs her car keys.

“You want soda too?”

“Coke. I'm gonna put rum in it.”

_“Gabriel!”_

“Shut up, Anna. You're excited, you know you are.”

“Gabriel,” Castiel says, “I am going to go in our room and lock the door.”

“Nonsense, little bro.” Gabriel says. “You're gonna join the party!”

Castiel and Anna say at the same time, “What?”

“It's time you lived a little. Get drunk, invite your boyfriend. I can rig Seven Minutes in Heaven for you. Mom ‘n Dad won’t be back ‘til Monday.”

“No thank you.” Castiel says stiffly. “And Dean is not my boyfriend.”

Gabriel takes Castiel’s shoulders. “Cas,” he says, “You have to.”

“No, you don't.” Anna interjects.

Castiel thinks through the pros and cons.

“I will stay out of our room for ten minutes.” Castiel says. “If I do not find a compelling reason to stay, I will retreat.”

Gabriel shoves him towards the phone. “Invite Dean.”

Castiel shakes his head insistently.

“Invite him or I'll call him and tell him you have a crush on him.”

Castiel shuffles to the phone and dials Dean’s number. He _doesn’t_ have feelings for Dean, but Gabriel is a skilled liar.

* * *

 

Dean’s doing nothing when his phone rings. He isn’t going to answer it. Still, it might be Dad, so he fumbles around in his sheets until he finds his vibrating cell phone.

He the screen says _Cas_.

He flips it open.

“Hello, Dean.” He hears.

“Hey, Cas.” Dean says, shifting to sit up on his pillows. “What’s up?”

“I believe the sky, and past that outer space, and somewhere, perhaps, heaven.” Cas says.

“I meant what are you doing?”

“Oh.” Cas says. “Oh, of course.” Dean can swear he hears some giggles (that are definitely _not_ Cas’s) on the other end of the line.

“So, what are you doing?” Dean says.

“Um…” Cas says. He sounds uncomfortable. “My brother… Gabriel, not one of the other- brothers that I have- uh… well, our parents are out of town and…”

“Just spit it out!” Comes from the background.

“Gabriel is having a party, and he insists I invite you.” Cas says. He sounds so nervous, so awkward, and Dean can practically _see_ the panic on his face, at once endearing and sad.

Dean’s pretty sure that Cas has social anxiety. He’s also pretty sure that parties are hell for people who don’t like people.

“Lemme guess, Gabe won’t let you hide.” Dean says.

“No.” Cas says and his panic really is tangible.

“Okay,” Dean says, “I’m coming to this party, and I am going to be your bodyguard and make sure you don’t die.”

“Really?” Cas says.

“Really.” Dean replies. “Where’s your house?”

* * *

 Dean gives Sam a container of salt, a shotgun, and permission to stay up until midnight. “I’ll be home before then,” he says, “But just in case I get here later and you’re watching porn on my computer or something, you’re in trouble”

“Lock the door.” He says as he leaves.

“God, Dean, you’re leaving for a few hours, not being Dad.” Sam jokes, but neither of them laughs.

“Call me if anything happens.” Dean says, ruffling Sam’s hair. “And if you have homework, do it.”

“Bye, mom!” Sam says, and shuts the door in Dean’s face. Probably excited to have some privacy for once.

* * *

 Cas’s house is the same as the last time Dean was here, except loud music is pounding from the inside and it seems a lot less virtuous.

He wonders whether to knock, but before he makes a decision, the door is flung open and there stands Gabriel, much happier than the last time he saw him.

“Dean!” He yells, jubilant. “Glad you could make it!”

He winks. “Cas is in the kitchen.”

Someone shrieks, “Gabriel!” Dean thinks it might be Anna.

“Gotta go.” Gabriel says. “Have fun.”

Dean dodges the dancing high schoolers and teen hormones, wading his way through the crowd to where he assumes the kitchen to be. First, accidentally, he opens the door to the bathroom to reveal a couple eating each others’ faces off, then, finally, he finds the kitchen.

It's a little quieter, painted a lemon meringue color with white trim on the cabinets. There's only a few people in here. Cas is sitting at a table, his hands clasped, knuckles white and eyes round.

“Cas?” Dean says.

Cas looks up, and his stricken expression relaxes slightly. “Hello, Dean.” He says.

Dean sits down next to him. “You okay?”

“Yes. I am fine. I am not used to this many people in my home. My mother organizes a book group with the women at the church, but it is not nearly the same.”

“Yeah,” Dean says, glancing back into the living room, which is starting to look like a dance club instead, “I figured.”

“Do you enjoy parties, Dean?” Cas says.

“Depends on the party.” Dean shrugs.

“Do you enjoy this party?”

“I haven't been to one in a while…” Dean says. “This one is pretty good.”

Cas nods, his lips pursed. “You should go and have fun, Dean.”

“What?” Dean says. “You're sure you're okay here?”

A small, humorless smile finds Cas’s lips. “Gabriel wants me to join the party. Perhaps I will find a game to take part in.”

Dean shakes his head. “Man, you really sure?”

Cas puts on a brave face. “Yes. You spend so much time working and caring for Sam. You do not need to care for me.”

* * *

 

Castiel plays Spin the Bottle. It's his first time playing and he tries to push away how much he wishes that Dean was in the circle. If Castiel’s bottle had landed on Dean, then he could've kissed him, just once, and played it off as total chance. He could fool everyone that he didn’t want it. Maybe he could even fool himself.

Instead, when the bottle lands on him, it’s spun by a junior named Meg. She's pretty, with dark hair in a bob and red lipstick. She gives Castiel a flirtatious wink and leans across the circle. Castiel means to keep the kiss chaste, but Meg grips the back of his hair, shoots him a dark grin, and gives him a long, deep kiss.

After it’s over, Castiel sits back. He touches his lips. That was his first kiss. It tasted of rum and coke. He has no doubt that Meg is a good kisser, but he still can't make himself feel something.

He spins the bottle and it lands on an auburn-haired girl named April. She also smiles at him and kisses him long, but softer than Meg. This time, Castiel closes his eyes. If he imagines hard enough, he can pretend it's Dean.

He thinks of Dean’s hand, firm on the back of his neck, the other wrapped around his waist and resting between his shoulder blades, Castiel’s hand curled and winding up somewhere near Dean’s shoulder as he’s pulled in. He thinks of Dean’s lips, which are probably different than April’s, but still warm, still soft, and Dean’s comforting scent, leather and car oil and something different, something a little sweeter that Castiel can never place.

His second kiss is slightly better than his first.

Long afterward, he sits with his legs crossed, his cheeks burning in shame. The others in the circle take it as a sign of attraction towards April and tease him about it. Castiel doesn’t say anything, which makes the other members of the game hoot even more.

Finally, Castiel gets up and leaves.

* * *

 

 Castiel’s house is different in a party.

He’s lived here for his whole life, and he can’t remember it ever changing. But with the lights dim and music high and a disco ball hanging from the ceiling and dozens of teenagers on every surface, it takes on a new tone. He doesn’t know where Dean is and doesn’t know if he can face him after his spin-the-bottle fantasy.

Instead, he ventures back to the kitchen. There’s a punch bowl there, no doubt spiked with alcohol. Castiel knows better than to drink any.

He makes one more scan for Dean, then goes upstairs to his bedroom. There’s a couple making out, but he asks them to go away and locks the door, trying to drown out the noise from downstairs.

* * *

 

 As the party finally winds down, Castiel emerges. Now, he thinks, he’ll find Dean.

He does find Dean, sprawled on the couch with a faraway look on his face. As soon as he sees Castiel, he breaks into a wide grin.

“Hey, Cas!” He says. His cheeks are flushed, spots of pink on his high cheekbones.

“Hello, Dean.” Castiel says. “I believe you should be getting home.”

“Nah, I’m havin’ fun.” Dean says, throwing his head back.

“It’s almost one in the morning, Dean.”

Dean doesn’t process this at first. Then, amiably, he says, “ _Fuck_.”

“What is it?”

“I told Sammy I’d be home by midnight.”

“You should call him.” Castiel says.

“I should.” Dean says. He doesn’t.

Castiel sits carefully next to Dean. “Are you alright?”

Dean flings an arm around Castiel’s shoulders. “I’m great!”

Castiel stares hard at Dean. The flush of his cheeks hasn’t gone away, and his eyes seem almost glazed. He’s still smiling, even past whatever concern he may have for Sam. There’s alcohol on his breath…

“Dean,” Castiel says, “are you drunk?”

“Probably.” Dean says. “I was doing shots with Gabriel-” his arm tightens around Castiel- “Ol’ Gabe sure can hold his liquor- and I guess we just-” He makes a wild gesture in the air. “We drank…” He hiccups. “Too much!”

“When I told you to go have fun at the party, I did not mean get wasted, Dean.”

Dean throws his head back and laughs, his whole body joining the gesture.

“You are not okay to drive.” Castiel says.

“Your eyes are so blue, Cas.”

“You should get home.”

“I like you.” Dean leans on Castiel’s shoulder, wrapping his arms around Castiel’s sweater-clad waist. “You’re so _good_ , Cas. You’re my best friend.”

“Have you even _called_ Sam?”

“Is that lipstick? Who were you kissing?”

“Where is your phone, Dean?”

Dean languidly pulls his phone out of his pocket. Castiel checks it- there are four missed calls from Sam.

“You silenced your phone?”

“I don’t know.” Dean’s discovered Castiel’s hair and is stroking it. “Your hair’s so soft.”

Castiel tries to ignore him- he knows drunk people do things they don’t mean- and calls Sam.

Sam answers the phone after two rings. “Dean?” He says frantically.

“This is Castiel.”

“Cas,” Sam says, “Where’s Dean?”

“He’s here. He is-” Castiel is _ignoring_ Dean’s warm breath near his ear- “He is very intoxicated.”

“Cas?” Dean says. “Who did you kiss?”

“Damnit, Dean.” Sam says, more to himself than to Castiel. “He’s not supposed to drink… when he starts he doesn’t stop.”

Dean reaches over and presses a thumb to lipstick on the side of Castiel’s mouth, where Meg was a little off the first time. He wipes it off in concentration.

“I doubt there is anyone who is sober enough to drive us.” Castiel says. “It’s only a short walk from my house to yours. We should be there in ten minutes.”

Before Sam says anything else, Castiel hangs up.

* * *

 

 Dean hasn’t been drunk in a long time. He drinks, but he doesn’t get _drunk_. Just- Gabriel dared him to shots and Dean also doesn’t walk away from dares. He was sure he could out-drink some 5’8” preacher’s kid, but apparently Gabriel has more experience than Dean expected of him. And now Dean’s wasted- he knows he is- and he can’t quite bring himself to care.

The best thing about being drunk is Cas. Dean is being walked home by Cas, who ends up having to hold on to his arm to steady him because Dean is like a spinning top slowing down- he can’t seem to stay upright, wobbly on his feet, his head heavy and weighing him down. About halfway through the walk, Cas gives up and just lets Dean lean on him, his arm wrapped firmly around Dean’s chest, fingers holding on to his jacket.

By the time they get close to the apartment, Dean is practically being carried by Cas, who’s surprisingly strong.

Cas’s overly serious demeanor has always been amusing, but now everything that comes out of his mouth is fucking _hilarious._ He’s so disapproving. He keeps making this face at Dean and it’s like he’s trying to be pissed but he can’t be and so he’s making himself look _extra_ pissed to try to convince Dean otherwise.

He keeps saying things like _intoxicated_ and _you should’ve known better than to ingest so much alcohol_ and _Dean, I am not a puppy._ Dean knows that Cas isn’t a puppy but it’s just so nice to run his fingers through that bedhead hair and not worry about anything.

Dean likes to laugh but the best thing about being drunk is it makes thinking so much easier. Things aren’t complicated like they usually are.

Suddenly, he’s seeing Cas different.

With all this alcohol inside of him, it seems perfectly obvious to Dean that Cas is amazing. He’s so nice, and so smart, and he doesn’t understand most of what Dean says but that’s okay because he tries to and it’s so cute and he’s so cute and god- Cas’s eyes are so goddamn beautiful and blue and his hair is soft and smells good, like clean sheets and fresh air and _home,_ and Dean finally knows how lucky he is that Cas is here and Cas fought to stay after how shitty Dean is and what a fuck-up he is and through all of it, Cas doesn’t care and Cas will love him anyway.

Castiel Milton is the most beautiful person Dean’s ever known, and it seems impossible that he’s doing something like hauling Dean up the stairs to the Winchesters’ shitty apartment. He’s better than that. He should’ve left Dean for something better ages ago.

And Dean doesn’t believe in God, but if he did, he would thank Him for Cas being here and pray for him to stay.

Cas is knocking on the door and it flies open and there’s Sam. _Sam,_ his baby brother. Sam’s upset about something but Dean just wants to hug him, so he does. By now he’s thinking maybe Gabriel put weed in the shots or something, because he isn’t angry like he usually is when he’s drunk, instead he’s overflowing with love.

“I’m so proud of you, Sammy.” He says. He doesn’t know why, he just wants Sam to know that. Dean is against sentimentality and telling people how much they mean to him, but now he just _has_ to tell them. “I love you so much, Sammy. I’m sorry I worried you.”

Sam’s saying something like _‘what’s wrong with Dean_?’ and Cas is shaking his head, shrugging. The way he shrugs is so sweet… he practically hunches his shoulders up to his ears, probably the furthest from a natural gesture someone can get. It isn’t strange. It’s just adorable.

“Perhaps you should lay down, Dean.” Cas is saying and the next thing Dean is being led to his bedroom and Cas is taking his shoes off for him and helping Dean lay down. Cas is leaning over him, looking worried, and Dean wants him to stop being worried and smile instead. He reaches up and presses a thumb on Cas’s forehead, smoothing out the furrowed brow, then drags his hand down to Cas’s lips, which he pushes up. Cas is blushing, and the pink compliments the blue in his eyes so well. Cas says “Dean, do you need anything?” And Dean is laughing but then he isn’t.

He looks Cas straight in the eye and runs one hand along Cas’s smooth cheek. “I need _you_.” He says.

Cas’s cheeks flame up even more and he’s saying “Dean you should go to sleep you need to sleep this off you are not thinking rationally.”

And Dean is finding Cas’s hand and kissing it, pulling it close to his chest like it’s Cas himself, and saying, “I love you, Cas.”

And he’s asleep before he hears the response.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> But no homo, bro. 
> 
> (Dean needs to have a long think about things)
> 
> Also, I am going on vacation for two weeks. I don't know when exactly I'll be able to update, so know my updates will be much more sporadic and far apart. I'll try to write as much as I can, but I don't know when I'll be in Wi-Fi so we'll see how this goes. 
> 
> I'll be back definitely by August 29, if not before. 
> 
> Just so you're warned. Sorry I kind of left this on a cliffhanger. 
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all, sorry I've been gone so long! Like I said in the notes last chapter, I've been on vacation for the past two weeks and only just finished this chapter! My mom is one of those people who thinks that 'vacation' means 'see everything and never take any breaks, just keep walking and do nothing but see famous buildings, eat, and sleep'. I'm FINALLY back and have enough energy to write!
> 
> Second of all, since it's been so long, here's a little review:   
> -John is a hunter.   
> -Cas's dad is a preacher.   
> -Cas's mom is a control freak (kind of)  
> -Last chapter, Gabriel threw a party.   
> -Cas had his first kiss at Spin the Bottle and had a Dean fantasy.   
> -Dean got drunk.   
> -Cas carried him home basically  
> -Really super drunk Dean told Cas he loved him and passed out  
> And that's what you missed on Glee

_ Fuck.  _ Dean thinks he might know what dying is like. It feels like someone’s driving a metal spike through his head, slowly, hitting it each time with a small mallet. 

Uuuughhhhhghghghghgh. 

“Uuuughhhhhghghghghgh.” He groans and tries to move. There’s something touching his forehead- what’s touching his forehead?- oh, it’s just a pillow. Good, at least he’s in a bed. 

_ His  _ bed? 

Checking around him, there’s no other sources of heat. So he didn’t drunkenly sleep with someone again. Unless they’ve already left. 

Dean’s head hurts far too much for him to get up and check. He isn’t dying, but this is the most wicked hangover he’s ever had. 

“UUUGGGHHHHHH!” He groans louder, but any hopes he had of it relieving his pain are crushed. 

Sam’s voice drifts from somewhere else. “Man, that hangover sure is giving him some weird sex dreams.” 

“Sam,” Cas says, “That is not an appropriate subject.” Dean can practically hear the red ears in his voice. 

Wait. 

_ Cas?  _

What is Cas doing at Dean’s house at hell o’clock on a… (what day was it again? Oh. Saturday.) Saturday morning? 

“Perhaps I should check on him.” Cas- and Dean’s certain it’s Cas- says. 

He opens his eyes, and the room isn’t too bright (the blinds are drawn). The person who comes in is definitely Castiel Milton. 

“Cas? What’re you doing here?” Dean’s voice sounds weird. 

“Hello, Dean.” Cas says. 

Cas is hovering in the doorway, not venturing further into Dean’s chamber of misery. He’s fractured in two with Dean’s eyes unfocused. 

“How are you feeling?” Cas says. Dean appreciates how quiet he is. 

“Like the Death Star is exploding on the inside of my skull.” Dean says. 

“That sounds rather unpleasant.”

“If by ‘rather unpleasant’ you mean fucking horrible, then yeah.” 

Cas finally comes in further, and Dean can see how worried he looks. “Dean, do you need anything?” He says. 

Something about the sentence strikes a chord within Dean. He can hear Cas’s voice saying it  _ before _ \- lots of times, but more recently… why does it feel so achingly familiar?

“Dean?” 

“Cas, why’re you here?” 

Cas blinks. 

“That’s quite a complicated philosophical question, Dean; I was under the impression you are not in a state to discuss theology-” 

“I mean  _ here _ , in my room. Now. On Saturday.” Dean says. 

“I brought you home quite late from Gabriel’s party last night. I did not feel safe walking home alone at two A.M., with the added risk that my phone had died. Sam offered me the couch, and I, in return, promised to take care of you. Apparently Sam is not fond of vomit. I hope that you do not feel I am intruding on your privacy or your home-”

“No, it’s great, Cas.” Dean says. “Could I have some water?” 

“Of course.” Cas says. He turns to go when Dean calls, “Wait!” He sits up a little in bed. 

“Yes?” 

Dean swallows. “Did I do anything stupid last night?”

“What do you qualify as ‘stupid’?” Cas says. 

“You know… make out with someone I don’t know… strip naked and sing karaoke… kill someone… say something embarrassing I didn’t mean… anything like that.”

Two spots of color appear high on Cas’s cheeks. 

“Um… no.” He says. 

“Thank God.” Dean mumbles, flopping back onto his pillows. 

* * *

That morning, Cas cooks Dean a full breakfast, makes him eat it, and sits through Dean’s constant complaints of his headache while Sammy sits on his ass watching nature documentaries on TV. For about the millionth time in the last few months, Dean wonders what he’s done to deserve a guardian angel like Cas, but no apparent answer comes to mind.

“Dude, are you even real?” He says, biting into a pancake and having a near-orgasmic experience. It’s so good, he’s not even nauseous anymore. The only pancakes Dean ever gets are made by Sam, who doesn’t know how to mix the ingredients properly and ends up with huge chunks of flour in the middle of the batter. 

“I am not fictional.” Cas says, sitting on his bed next to his legs. 

Dean takes another bite. “Where’d you even get the ingredients? We can hardly afford eggs… shit! My shift!” 

He sits up in blind panic, already reaching for his shoes and jacket simultaneously. Cas stops him with a warm hand on his chest. 

“Cas, I gotta get to work. I’ll get fired if I miss another-” 

“I called in already. I told them you have been stretched especially thin by school and work and caught a horrible case of the flu. I also said you were fighting to go to work but your friends and family were forced to restrain you. I believe your employer has been instilled with a strong sense of your commitment. You’ve gotten a small raise.” 

Dean relaxes against Cas’s palm, again filled with the sensation that none of this is real. How can it be, in a world where bosses are forgiving and pancakes taste good and someone gives a shit about Dean enough to look at him the way Cas is, with unedited caring? 

“You’re an angel.” Dean says. 

Cas blushes. “Not as much as you might think.” He pushes Dean back down. “Lay down, Dean. You need rest.” 

“It’s just a hangover. I’m not sick. I”ve gone to school like this all the time.”

“Why did you get so drunk?” 

Cas has managed to get him to lay down again with only light pressure. He moves the pancake tray to the bedside table and brushes a hand through Dean’s hair. 

It’s weird how good that feels, like every nerve ending on Dean’s scalp has suddenly come to life. 

“Were you upset?” Cas’s tone is soothing. Dean knows what he’s doing- he’s playing therapist- but Dean’s inclined to humor him. 

“I try not to drink too much.” He says. “Cause of what it does to my dad. But sometimes it’s just there, and I guess once I start I can’t stop. It makes everything softer, for a while. Less dark, less… sharp. Less… ‘this is right and this is wrong’, y’know?” 

Cas looks at him with something new behind his eyes. 

“You’re making it sound very… appealing.” Cas says. 

“It’s great ‘cept for the hangover.” 

“Mmm.” 

“And…” Dean says, debating whether to tell. 

“And?” 

“The anniversary of the day my mom died is today.” 

Cas’s eyes widen. “I am so sorry, Dean. I had no idea.” 

“Most people don’t.” Dean says. “I guess I just find it easier to get blackout drunk on November first. Sammy and I never talk about it. We just find our coping methods.” 

“Are you okay?” 

“I prefer just not to talk about it. At all.” 

Cas nods and falls silent. They stay that for a while, the quiet heavy, until Cas’s head droops. 

“You okay? You seem kinda tired.” Dean says. 

“I did not sleep well last night.” Cas says. “Your couch is four feet long. And sitting here is making me very drowsy. You are very warm.” 

“Why didn’t you go home?” 

“Gabriel would make me do all the cleaning up.” 

He pokes Cas with a toe through the blanket. 

“My father is taking this week off.” Cas blurts. 

He sees Dean’s expression and elaborates. 

“He’s always working. I’m not quite sure what he even does during the week when there’s no service. He can’t spend that much time writing sermons. But he is almost never home. Sunday dinner is the only guarantee.” Cas says. “But this week he has decided to ‘take off’ from work. Like a kind of vacation. My mother and him are in Virginia visiting my uncle Zachariah right now and they come back on Monday. And this whole week my father will be at home. If my mother is strict, he is totalitarian.” 

“What, can he smell sin or something?” Dean says. 

Cas actually nods. 

“Man, that’s fucked up.” Dean says. “So what, you don’t want to go home cause you’re gonna be trapped there all week?”

Cas nods again, obviously miserable. “Anna won’t stop talking about it. She’s almost excited. She’s had several minor rebellions, but they’ve all been in response to my father’s negligence. I think she feels that this week means he actually does care about us. It’s mollified her.” 

“But you think she’s wrong.” 

“I believe my mother told him about my recent shift in focus and he’s decided to see for himself.” 

Poor Cas. He looks terrified. 

Dean reaches out and places a hand on Cas’s shoulder. Cas looks up, startled. 

“Hey, I get the whole drama with absent fathers. ‘Specially when they come back. You ever need to get out, Sammy and me’d be happy to take you.” He says, and smiles a little. “You could have my bed, if you want.” 

Dean’s never been nice with a hangover before. He’s never really been nice at all before. Cas just brings that out in him. 

He feels like he’s forgetting something. It’s at the back of his mind, nipping, but not quite sparking the memory. Looking at the gratitude on Cas’s face, he thinks it must not be too big, or he’d remember. 

* * *

Three large things happen in the first two weeks of November.

One, Dean gets a girlfriend. 

He’s been single since Cassie, and, for once in his life, not mingling. Usually Dean is more popular at the schools he attends. He thinks some of the reason why he isn’t here is because of how close he’s grown to Cas. His friend is amazing, but socially isolated. Dean’s always been the bad boy loner type and having a nerdy, sweater-vest-wearing best friend doesn’t exactly help his image. Dean doesn’t care. He’d rather have Cas than some random group that means nothing. 

He hasn’t gotten laid in a long time, though. 

Dean Winchester is not a saint like Cas (who’s never had a girlfriend; the first time he'd even kissed someone was at the party and Dean does not understand how someone could really be _that_ celibate). The boy has needs. 

Just because he’s friends with Cas doesn’t mean he’s a pariah. Plenty of girls would be more than happy to get a piece of him- he can tell walking through the halls of school from the stares and giggles he receives. In any other situation, Dean would just find a random hookup, but he finds having spent so much time with Cas has sort of raised his standards for the company he keeps. He’s slightly disturbed when he comes to the realization that he wants to talk to someone before he has sex with her. 

The only thing Cas has ever expressed a disliking to about Dean’s personality is how little he cares about his sex partners. “You only sleep with them once? And many people?” He’d said, with a shocked expression. 

“What?” Dean said defensively. “Are you slut-shaming me?”

“No.” Cas said. “But if you sleep with someone… and then never talk to them again… isn’t that upsetting?”

"Upsetting?" 

"To leave someone you've laid with and find another so quickly?" 

Dean had finally gotten it. He’d almost laughed. “You think sex is about love.” 

“Well, yes.” Cas had said, his cheeks flushing. “It is called ‘making love’, is it not?” 

“Sometimes.” Dean had said. “Other times it’s called hooking up, banging, fucking…” 

By then, Cas’s face was completely red, even his ears. Maybe even his scalp under his hair. 

“Look-” Dean had said. “Sex is fun. It’s not a commitment.” 

“But what if you did perform… intercourse with someone else… and fell in love with them? Had a more... profound bond.” Cas said. “Sometimes people do form emotional connections. You did, with Cassie Robinson. Was your heart not ‘broken’ when you split?” 

Dean hadn’t known what to say to that. 

“I know you think real love doesn’t exist, Dean.” Cas had said, staring straight at him. “But it does. It goes beyond the evolutionary need to reproduce.” 

That had been the end of a very awkward conversation. 

Dean hasn’t forgotten it, though. And so whenever he considers finding a casual hookup, he hears Cas’s voice in his head. 

_ I know you think real love doesn’t exist, Dean. But it does.  _

And then he starts thinking about Cas and really, thoughts about Cas and sex should not belong in the same part of Dean’s brain. 

So, he hasn’t gotten laid in a while and it’s starting to become frustrating. 

That’s why, when Lisa Braeden strides up to him confidently in the hall one day and asks him to go to the Sadie Hawkins dance with her, he fixes her with a flirtatious smile and replies that yes, he would very  _ much  _ like to go with her. She disappears into the school with a group of her excited friends and Dean is rather pleased with himself. 

He likes Lisa. She’s nice, not like the stereotype that popular girls are bitchy and airheaded. Dean’s found the ‘airheaded’ part untrue on many occasions, because he’s seen what it’s like to be popular and frankly, it takes a lot of brains not to get torn apart. It’s kind of like hunting. Except not. But anyway, he likes Lisa. She’s smart and witty, and doesn’t treat him like something other than human. They can hold a conversation. He’ll enjoy the time they spend together at the dance before the hooking up part. 

Also, she’s really hot, and that’s always great. 

That day at lunch, Cas asks him how his morning has gone. Dean hasn’t dared to ask how Cas’s week with his father is going, but today Cas is smiling so it must not be too bad. . 

“I got a date to the dance.” Dean says, sipping his Coke. 

“Really?” Cas says, his eyes darting up for a second. “Who?” 

“Lisa Braeden asked me out.” Dean says, letting himself be pleased. Lisa’s popular enough that pretty much everyone expected her to go with a football player, not Dean. Yet she asked  _ him  _ out. The undeniable charm of Dean Winchester has struck again. 

Cas doesn’t seem nearly as excited. 

“That is nice.” He says mechanically. 

“What’s up?” Dean says. Only moments before, Cas was grinning, but that expression is gone, not having even left a trace of it being there at all. 

“Nothing.” Cas says. 

Dean squints at him. 

“You’re not…” he says disbelievingly. “You’re not jealous, are you?” 

Cas doesn’t answer. 

“Cas, do you like Lisa?” 

Cas laughs nervously. “I do not ‘like’ Lisa, Dean, at least not in the matter you are assuming. She is a very nice girl and I am sure you will have a wonderful time at the dance.” 

“Then what?” Dean says. He stares at Cas more. “Are you lonely?” 

Cas doesn’t say anything. He stares at the grass, mostly dead with some fleeting patches of green remaining. 

“Cas?” 

“I am not lonely. I have you.” Cas says. 

“You know what I mean. You’ve never had a girlfriend, Cas. Don’t you think it’s time?” 

Cas is quiet. His eyes seem to be somewhere else, and Dean wonders if Cas has gone somewhere else entirely. 

“I do not desire a girlfriend.” He finally says. 

Dean doesn’t pry. He has the feeling prying could start a fight. He’s never really fought with Cas, and doesn’t want to either.

* * *

 

The second thing that happens in November is John comes back. 

Dean doesn’t register it at first, Baby pulled up in front of their crappy apartment building. He’s been walking home from school and almost gets halfway up the steps before he looks back. 

And there she is, the Impala in all her glory. 

And that means Dad is home. 

Dean isn’t sure whether he’s happy or terrified but before he can decide either way he’s up the stairs and opening the door to find John cleaning a gun at the table. 

“Dad,” He says, his voice refusing to choose what tone to take. 

“Dean!” His father says and he looks so genuinely happy to see him that Dean can almost fool himself that everything’s gonna be okay. 

John’s not a hugger, but he pats his son on the back. Dean doesn’t relax, an ever-vigilant soldier in his father’s presence. 

Sam’s school gets out later than Dean’s, and he comes home too, and the Winchesters are reunited. That night, John takes them for burgers, good ones. When he asks how they’ve been doing, Dean doesn’t mention them struggling with food money, or his first heartbreak, or even how well Sam’s been doing with a steady school. 

He doesn’t tell his father about Cas, either. And Sam somehow knows not to. Dean knows it’s stupid, but after years of giving everything for Dad, he wants something that’s just his.

* * *

 

The third thing is, they don’t leave.

For once, John’s arrival doesn’t mean ‘pack your bags!’. Sammy begs to stay and Dean’s with his brother. He likes it here in Pontiac. There’s nothing special about the school, really, and their apartment is crap, and the gas station where Dean works on certain afternoons is a magnet for pervs and probable criminals, but still, he wants to stay. And it’s, well, it’s because of… Cas. 

When John asks why Dean wants to stay, Dean says, “I made a friend.” 

A small twinkle of humor finds its way into his father’s eyes. “First love, huh?” 

Dean’s about to explain that he’s been there, done that, and that actually Cas is just a close friend that he’s come to rely on for everything…

But he thinks it would be easier to just nod. John pats him on the back and says there’s a lot of supernatural activity in Livingston County. A lot of jobs to do that won’t force them to leave. 

John’s face is surprisingly soft when he looks at Dean. “Your mother was my first love, you know.” He says. “If you really do love her, don’t let her go.” 

Dean thinks about Cas, how important he is. 

Instead of correcting his father, he says, “I won’t.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! If you enjoy this fic, I always appreciate your kudos and comments! 
> 
> My tumblr url is writeuntilyourfingersfalloff if you want to ask me questions or whatevs


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's taken me SO DAMN LONG to update. Seriously. You can yell at me if you want to. School kind of bombed me and I've also been working on my own original novel. Not excuses, just explanations. Sorry sorry sorry. 
> 
> This isn't even a long chapter. Basically, Castiel is having a sexuality crisis 
> 
>  
> 
> Big things are coming up!
> 
> Thank you to everyone who has read, given kudos, and left comments in my absence! Sorry I've neglected this story so much! I hope it won't happen again! (Though you never know where this will go; the only reason I made myself sit down and go back to this is because I'm really sick right now and fan fiction is what makes me feel better)

In all of Castiel Milton’s short life, he’s never been quite as confused as he is right now. 

From fantasizing about kissing Dean at the party to fighting an erection while carrying him home (Dean had been touching his hair; it was sensitive) to Dean drunkenly telling Castiel he loved him in the past 48 hours, his head is spinning with unwanted feelings, and his, ahem, lower regions are abuzz with even  _ more  _ unwanted feelings. 

And worst of all, he’s at  _ church. _

After receiving a panicked call from Gabriel the day before explaining that their parents were coming home a day early so that his father could perform the church service as usual, he’d rushed back to help with cleanup. This morning his mother woke him up and he pretended like he hadn’t had a very, uh, sinful dream in the night. 

One with a lot of Dean’s hands in his hair and freckled skin. 

He blushes bright red remembering it and reminds himself that he is  _ confused  _ and these are not  _ real feelings  _ and he is probably just lonely and latching on to the closest non-familial confidant he has. 

Dean is his  _ friend.  _

“...unfaithful to our Lord and Savior will be punished. We must teach our children not to be distracted by shallow gratifications while on Earth, for what seems pleasurable in this life can never make up for the fires of Hell!” 

Castiel’s father throws his whole being into his sermon. Sometimes, when Castiel was younger, he wondered if an angel was using his father as a vessel when he preached. The fiery intensity in his eyes has only burned hotter as the years have gone on, at this point looking a bit like insanity. 

Castiel has seen pictures of his great-grandfather, Carver Edlund. The same fire was in his eyes. 

“Children are precious. They are to be protected, shielded. The world will hurt them. We must keep them close. And keep them with Our Lord.” Castiel’s father says. “Be careful, because even the most devout of children one day can be influenced by the temptation of sin.” 

Castiel bows his head, feeling the stares of the nosier churchgoers on the back of his neck. 

If only things could be as simple as they once were. He can’t be content with blind belief anymore, and sitting in the church his great-grandfather built on fanaticism makes him feel like it isn’t only the people in pews around him making his hair rise. It is the angels, too, glaring at him as though they can feel every one of his sinful desires. 

* * *

After the service ends, Castiel goes into the bathroom. He looks at his flushed face in the mirror and loosens his tie, splashes water on overheated cheeks.

“Father Milton’s sermon sure was interesting today, wasn’t it, Castiel?” 

He stiffens, his hands tightening on the porcelain of the sink. 

“Good morning, Uriel.” He says. “I did not hear you come in.” 

“That doesn’t answer my question.” Uriel says. 

Castiel’s eyes meet the other boy’s in the mirror. Uriel is standing behind him with crossed arms and a smirk. 

They aren’t friends. They haven’t ever been, not in Sunday School, not in Youth Group, not now. Uriel is his age and his family are strong members of the Church, but there’s always been something about the way Uriel looks at him that Castiel doesn’t like. The way he’s examining him now, like he can see right into Castiel’s brain and is judging every thought that comes through. 

“Yes,” Castiel says, “my father’s sermons are always interesting.” 

“He said something that especially caught my attention.” Uriel says. “Something about how even the most devout of children can be tempted by sin.” 

Castiel turns around. “Yes, Gabriel has partaken in sexual intercourse before marriage. If you want to lecture him, you’ll probably find him smoking in the field.” 

“Gabriel’s never been devout.” Uriel says. “You’ve been bad, haven’t you?” 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

“I saw the way you were shifting in your seat. Like you were uncomfortable. Anna seemed perfectly relaxed the whole service.” 

“And if my father was talking about me?” Castiel says, trying to step around Uriel. Uriel blocks him. “What business of it is yours?”

“I’ve seen you around school with Dean Winchester.” Uriel says. 

Castiel’s brain freezes.

“I thought that would get a reaction.” Uriel’s smirk is self-satisfied in the most infuriating way. “Really, Castiel, Dean Winchester? That mud-monkey?”

“My life is none of your business, Uriel. Please let me pass.” 

Uriel glares at him. 

“You’re becoming more and more like Lucifer every day, aren’t you?” Uriel says. 

Castiel feels a lurch in his stomach. He bolts from the bathroom. Uriel’s laughter follows him, echoing around in his skull and making him question if the encounter was even real or if he’s really lost it this time. 

“Castiel, are you alright?” Anna says. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” 

His mother crosses over to him and puts a hand on his cheek. “Honey, you’re so pale.” 

“I’m fine.” Castiel says. Trying to convince himself, he repeats it. “I’m fine.” 

He’s quiet for the drive home and sits in his bedroom until his mother calls him for dinner. 

* * *

The week is going okay. He can’t go home with Dean after school because his parents are expecting him every day at 3:30, but his father seems pleased with him. Mr. Milton used to be… more than he is now. Now it’s like all his colors have faded, and the life has slowly started to drain out of his eyes. Castiel remembers that he used to laugh, but that was over six years ago and feels more like a lifetime.

Still, Gabriel and Anna don’t tell on him and he sees Dean at school every day. They sit together at lunch, and Castiel finds he can ignore his confusing feelings if he focuses on their  _ conversation,  _ which never drifts to uncomfortable things. 

Well, except the one time when they talked about sex. 

But Dean never brings that up, so it’s okay. 

Castiel smiles whenever he sees Dean coming towards him and Dean smiles back. 

Except they’re eating one day and out of the blue Dean says, “I got a date to the dance.” 

Luckily Castiel wasn’t eating or he would’ve choked. “Really?” He says, daring only to look at Dean for a second, “Who?” 

Dean grins lazily. “Lisa Braeden asked me out.” Clearly he’s pleased. 

“That is nice.” Castiel says, keeping the emotion he’s feeling (what emotion is it? It’s unfamiliar and he doesn’t like it) out of his voice. 

Dean picks up on it anyway. “What’s up?”

“Nothing.” Castiel says, keeping his face blank.

Dean gives him a quizzical look. 

“You’re not…you’re not jealous, are you?” 

_ Jealous.  _ Castiel’s heard of that feeling before, but jealousy has never really affected him. Now, though, the hot fist in his chest seems best explained by jealousy.  _ Does Dean know? _ (What is there for Dean to know, anyway? What is Castiel’s problem?) He doesn’t answer, hoping Dean will drop it. 

“Cas, do you like Lisa?” 

Castiel laughs, a full-out giggle far more high-pitched than any noise he’d thought he’d ever be making. Dean doesn’t  _ know _ . Of course he doesn’t. Just because he told Castiel he loved him when he was intoxicated does not mean he has any sort of non-platonic feelings towards him. 

“I do not ‘like’ Lisa, Dean, at least not in the matter you are assuming.” Castiel says, almost laughing again at how very strange this situation is. “She is a very nice girl and I am sure you will have a wonderful time at the dance.”

“Then what?” Dean says. He isn’t dropping it, he isn’t dropping it. “Are you lonely?”

Castiel says nothing. 

“Cas?” 

“I am not lonely.” Castiel says. The grass is green. Dean’s eyes are green. “I have you.” 

“You know what I mean. You’ve never had a girlfriend, Cas. Don’t you think it’s time?”

A girlfriend. Castiel had never kissed a girl until last Friday, a quick, messy pressing of lips, a grabbing of hair. Before last Friday, he could pass his lack of attraction to the opposite sex off as lack of  _ experience.  _ But now… now, thinking of having a girlfriend, thinking of marrying her like his father married his mother… having  _ children _ with her… it just feels wrong. Would sexual intercourse feel like the kissing, only more? 

He’s completely truthful when he says, “I do not desire a girlfriend.” 

Finally, Dean drops it. They go back to eating their lunch in silence. 

* * *

Dean calls him at eleven p.m. a few days later.

“You asleep?” Dean says. 

“If I was asleep, I would not have answered the phone.” 

“Yeah, okay. Right. My dad came back.” 

Oh. 

_ Oh.  _

Dean hasn’t told Castiel much about his father, only that John Winchester likes to  _ move.  _

“Are you-” 

“I’m not leaving.” 

It’s like a weight had been dropped on Castiel, and just as suddenly, lifted off. 

“Good.” Castiel says. “Is there anything else you need?” 

“I- uh- need help on the homework.” 

“We don’t have any homework tonight, Dean.” 

“Oh. Then… I guess could you just talk?” 

“About what?” 

“I dunno. Anything.” 

“I assure you most of what I would say would be immensely boring.” 

“I just wanna hear your voice.” Dean says. 

Warmth spreads from Castiel’s chest. He smiles. 

“Alright,” he says. “Have you ever noticed how fascinating bees are? They’re such beautiful, tiny creatures… people hate them for the pain they inflict, but that pain is so small, so insignificant against what they do for our planet…” 

“Oh for God’s sake.” Gabriel says through the darkness of the room. “If you’re going to have phone bee sex with your boyfriend, at least do it somewhere else.” Castiel can hear his brother turn over in frustration. "Jeez. You're a weird kid." 

  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, sorry for the short chapter and long gap between updates. I used to update every other day (sheds single man tear even though I'm a female) 
> 
> I've been wanting to make Uriel say 'mud-monkey' since I started writing fanfiction. :):)


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